The Unfinished Tales of Legolas Greenleaf
by alliwantisanelfforchristmas
Summary: The big day has come. A non-fiction sequel to "The Unauthorized Biography of Legolas Greenleaf".
1. He's Back?

This is the sequel to "The Unauthorized Biography of Legolas Greenleaf." You will want to read that story first, all 24 chapters. Don't skip, or you might miss something!  
  
I absolutely do not own him. He owns himself, as you have seen and I am sure will continue to see. Tolkien created him. I just give him free room and board, and try my best to keep him out of trouble.  
  
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Chapter 1 He's Back?  
  
"Get up!" shouts Yes Dear, dragging on my arm. "Hurry, you've got to get up NOW!"  
  
The phone is no longer on the floor beside me, and I wonder for a moment if the whole thing was a dream. Coming to sit, I find the room still spinning around me, and I feel a bit sick to my stomach.  
  
"What's happening?" I ask, fingering the bump on the back of my head.  
  
"Legolas is back. Get up. We're going to get him. Hurry!"  
  
Why is he yelling at me? And why is he in such a hurry? Any fool would know that Legolas is long gone, back in Middle earth for over a week now. The call had to be a prank, someone's sick way of really messing with my head for the Christmas holiday. And it really worked, because my head FEELS really messed with.  
  
Rising to my feet, holding on to the wall in front of me for dear life as the room tilts violently inside my head, I scowl at him. "It was just someone playing a cruel joke. I can't believe you would fall for that. Besides, I thought you wanted him to go back."  
  
"Hurry up!" he yells again. "Get in the car, I'll explain later!"  
  
I manage to grab my jacket as he pushes me out the door and down the steps. As I turn to go to the van, he grabs me by the arm and pulls me out to the car instead. "Come on," he urges, "it's faster."  
  
"What in blue blazes are you in such a hurry about?!!" I holler as he throws the car in reverse and peels out of the driveway. Little Pip in the backseat lets out a "Whooooo Hooooooo! Copyright Celeborn!"  
  
"And how do you know who it was, anyway?" I continue.  
  
"I talked to him. He only got one call, and it's a good thing I listened to him instead of just hanging up when I saw you keel over like that." He pauses, taking in my stiffened posture and crossed arms, coupled with the angry countenance he is faced with. "al," he says, "I know it's hard to believe, but I really do think it was Legolas. And if what he said is true, he's in a heap of trouble."  
  
"If this is your idea of a sick surprise for me, he's not the only one who's gonna be in a heap of trouble," I threaten. "What did he say happened?"  
  
"He didn't have time. He just said he was back, and could I come get him. Then when I asked him where he was, he said he wasn't sure."  
  
"Well then, how the heck do we know where we're going in such a hurry?"  
  
"I asked him if anyone else was there that I could talk to, and he said yes. I had to prod him to get him to give the receiver to somebody so I could find out what was going on. He acted a little, well, disoriented."  
  
"Disoriented?" I let out a guffaw. "We're talking about LEGOLAS, dear. He always acts a bit disoriented." Or at least, he used to. When he lived with me.  
  
"You know what I mean. He sounded like he was really tired, exhausted even." He scowls at the Thranduil eyebrow I shoot at him. "I know, totally unelven, but I swear that's the impression I got."  
  
"Well then, who did you end up talking to?"  
  
"A cop. An Officer Pendleton, from the Greenwood Police Department."  
  
"WHAT??" Ok, now this is really NOT funny. Not a good joke at all. Things are getting serious here.  
  
"Officer Pendleton said they were holding him at the Greenwood City Jail, and asked if we would come over and bail him out."  
  
My mouth is gaping open, my eyes bugging out of my head. Little Pip leans over the front seat and adds, "I hope he's gonna get restricted to his room for two whole weeks for this one. No TV or computer or ANYTHING."  
  
"Bail him out?" I repeat. My first thought was that he had gone to the police like I had taught him to do if I ever got lost on him again. You know, asking for help. Not in the hoosegow for committing some crime. "What in the world did he do?"  
  
"Apparently the manager of the theater called the police for a breaking and entering in the concession stand this morning. They couldn't charge him with breaking into the theater itself, because there wasn't any proof that he had broken anything or actually entered the building while it was closed." He pauses, laughing. "The concession stand, I hear, was a whole different matter."  
  
I close my gaping mouth, and my bugging eyes, not wanting to deal with the vision that has just entered my brain. It matters not, for the insides of my eyelids are the screen for the playing of my own private nightmare. Legolas Greenleaf behind the concession stand at the local movie theater. Unattended, as in both elf AND candy. Dear God, help me, I am just sooooo not ready for this.  
  
"Don't tell me. I don't want to know any more," I implore. We ride in silence for a little while, the only sounds being the hum of the car as it flies west toward Greenwood and the sound of Little Pip in the backseat singing Christmas carols. Suddenly, all the possibilities that could occur with Legolas Greenleaf locked up behind bars dawn on me.  
  
"Oh my God, please tell me they didn't throw him in the cell with all the other criminals!" I gasp, visions of my lovely blonde haired warrior surrounded by large dirty, smelly, burly men, fighting for his life, or at least his dignity. "We've got to call them and get him out of there!" I might not have been in a hurry before, but I am frantic now.  
  
"Nah, I think I took care of that," smiles Yes Dear confidently. There is something about the way his eyes are gleaming with mischief that makes me a little nervous about asking how he managed to take care of that. Whatever THAT means.  
  
We pull into the parking lot of the jail. It is not near as bad as I had envisioned, though I am loath to let him spend another minute in there. I am out of the car in a flash, flying to the door, where I am met by a very polite woman in a blue police uniform who informs me I must empty my pockets and go through the metal detector before she will let me in. Yes Dear and Little Pip join me once their own inspections are over. Little Pip is disappointed none of us managed to set off the alarm. She wanted to see all the cops come running out to arrest one of us.  
  
We sign in at the desk, where we are asked to post bail. "I'm not signing or paying for anything until I find out what is happening," I say. "Is there anyone here who can tell me what is going on?"  
  
In a few minutes, Officer Pendleton arrives and escorts us to a small holding room. He is a pleasant older gentleman, with graying hair and a mustache that curls up on the edges. He has a grandfatherly smile and a very relaxing demeanor. He motions for us to sit at the table in the metal chairs that surround it.  
  
"Where is he?" I blurt. "Can I see him?"  
  
"In a minute, ma'am," Officer Pendleton assures me with a smile. "He's fine. I was just checking on him when the desk clerk called me to tell me you had arrived and to come talk with you."  
  
I sit back, relieved somewhat, but still fiddling with the button on the bottom of my jacket, as I cannot seem to keep my hands still.  
  
"Will you tell us what happened, Officer?" Yes Dear inquires.  
  
Officer Pendleton smiles. "Yes sir. It seems your son. . . ."  
  
"He's not our son," interrupts Yes Dear. "He's a friend of ours."  
  
"Sorry," says Officer Pendleton. "Well, it seems your friend was quite famished, and raided the snack bar at the local movie theater. He seems to have quite the sweet tooth, that one!" He chuckles. "The night staff must have locked him in after the last movie last night, at least that is what we think happened. It seems the only damages were to the food products sold at the concession stand, and I'd say those damages are. . . ." he stops to chuckle again, " pretty well unrecoverable, at least in the same condition they were before." This time he laughs out loud at his own joke, and Yes Dear and Little Pip join him. I'm still playing that private show of the elf behind the candy counter inside my eyelids, and my show is NOT a comedy.  
  
"You didn't hurt him, did you?" I ask, surprising myself at the slight growl in my voice.  
  
"No, ma'am, actually he's been very pleasant and cooperative. He's quite charming, if I do say so myself. Well mannered. I would have complemented you on his manners and upbringing, if you had said he WAS your son, that is."  
  
I let the little smile grace my lips for a second. My heart picks up a beat. There's a good chance by that particular description that we are indeed talking about the Prance I know. Maybe this isn't a well-planned joke after all.  
  
"He did get quite a few catcalls when I had to march him down the hall in the jail though. It's a good thing your husband told me about him so I could put him in solitary."  
  
I take a long look at my husband sitting beside me, who looks as if maybe he has just swallowed a canary. I swear I can see little yellow feathers in the right hand corner of his lips. He just shrugs and grins.  
  
"If you'll just give me a moment to call the theater manager, I think we could wrap this up without any charges being pressed, if you'd be willing to pay for the merchandise he ate," says Officer Pendleton. As he leaves the room, Little Pip speaks up.  
  
"I do hope you're gonna take it out of his allowance," she says.  
  
  
  
When Officer Pendleton returns, he is smiling the grandfather smile again. "It's all settled," he says. "The theater manager is on the way here with the bill, and you can pay him and I'll get your friend released."  
  
"How much is the bill?' ventures Yes Dear.  
  
"Mr. Thompson said $300.00 would cover it."  
  
Now it's my turn to catch Yes Dear as he almost tumbles to the floor. "Three Hundred Dollars! How much candy did he eat???"  
  
"You don't want to know right now," I tell him. "Wait until Legolas can tell his side of the story. For right now, let's just get him out of here."  
  
Mr. Thompson is very nice about the whole thing, apologizing profusely for having to call the police, but insisting it was the only thing he could do since Legolas had no money to pay for the candy and he couldn't remember his phone number so Mr. Thompson could call me himself. "It really was the only thing I had left I could do," he repeats again. "The boy is such a nice little fellow, I hated it, but I really didn't know what else to do. As a matter of fact, he told me himself that if you ever need help, you should find a policeman."  
  
Dear God, it IS him, I think to myself.  
  
About that time, there is a bit of commotion down the hallway, and I see a tall, thin, blond-haired form dressed in green and grey coming through the barred door at the end, jerking his arm away from someone in the end cell who has reached out to grasp it. He is scowling, and I can only hope he doesn't retaliate against the hand that is reaching out to pinch him in the seat of the pants from the other side.  
  
It's really him. He's back. 


	2. When Wishes Come True

A/N: Thoughts are in { }. Elvish translations located at the end of the chapter.  
  
  
  
Chapter 2 When Wishes Come True  
  
The policeman who unlocks the barred door has his back to Legolas, so he misses the quick blocking move the elf makes against the fingers reaching for his derrière. If looks could kill, the unseen prisoner would have just met his maker at the hands of a trained assassin. I take the chance when I see it.  
  
"Legolas!"  
  
His head whips forward at the sound of my voice, his sharp elven eyes locking on mine.  
  
"al!" he yells.  
  
Before the policeman realizes what has happened, the Prance is flashing past him through the now open door, running to me, long legs pumping and hair flying behind him. His forward motion stops as suddenly as it started when he reaches me. No skidding or sliding. Just a totally elven complete gliding stop.  
  
We stand facing each other, eyes locked. He reaches out and puts his right hand on my left shoulder.  
  
"Mae Govannen, al!" he says.  
  
I reach for his shoulder, mirroring his own action. "Mae Govannen, Prance Legolas. Welcome back!"  
  
We stand there, taking in the sight of each other, for what feels like an eternity. Suddenly I find myself locked in the strong arms of the archer's embrace.  
  
"I meesed u al. I em glaed tu bea bak," he whispers in my ear.  
  
"Oh, Legolas. . . ," I breathe, as the tears spring to my eyes once again.  
  
Little Pip throws her arms around the two of us, bearhugging us for all she's worth. She takes a step back, and wagging her finger at him, says, "Man, Legolas, you are in SOOOOO much trouble!"  
  
It's Yes Dear's turn. Stepping forward, he clasps Legolas' hand in his own. "Good to have you back, buddy," he says.  
  
"Ur noet geddin oef dat ezy," says the Prance. Soon Yes Dear is also locked in the elvish equivalent of a bearhug.  
  
"Can we go now?" asks Little Pip.  
  
Glancing away from Legolas' noble face, I look at Officer Pennington, who is smiling happily at us. "You're free and clear," he announces. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Greenleaf."  
  
"It wuz a plaezshure tu meat u tu, Offussir Pennington," says the Prance, clasping and shaking the policeman's hand. "Mae we meat agin, buet en sum uthr plaece."  
  
There is a brief exchange of laughter, and then we are on our way. Sounds of "Goodbye, Legolas!" echo forth down the hallway from the other officers as we pass. It appears the Prance used his time of incarceration to impress the entire local establishment with the skills of diplomacy taught well to him by his noble father.  
  
The son of Thranduil makes his way to the car, climbing into the back seat and buckling up as if nothing has changed, nothing has happened. It is as if none of the events of the past week ever took place. If it weren't for the slight droop of his shoulders as he leans back in the seat, and the deeper than usual sigh he emits, you would never know he'd just come back from saving all of Middle-earth.  
  
"Pip, you wanna ride up front?" I ask.  
  
"Really? In the front seat?" she responds, incredulous. She is always relegated to the rear seat, so this day is about to turn out to be a real treat indeed. "Ok!" she exclaims, moving quickly to claim her prize before I can change my mind.  
  
I settle myself into the back beside the Prance. Looking over at him, I start to ask 'Are you ok?' but suddenly the thought escapes me.  
  
He's got his head back against the seat; his eyes are closed. He looks exhausted. I hadn't noticed it inside the jail, but as I observe him resting there another totally unexpected word springs to my mind.  
  
Fragile.  
  
I reach out to grasp his hand, and as he opens his eyes his soft smile returns. Just as quickly as it entered my mind, the thought of fragility flees. My strong elven archer has returned.  
  
He scoots himself as close to me as his seat belt will allow, and bumps his forehead against my own. It's a cat-like move I'm guilty of all the time, particularly with the pets, but I can't say I've ever seen him do it before. I wasn't even aware he had picked it up until just now. Then he rests his head on my shoulder.  
  
As Yes Dear drives us out of town, I glance down at Legolas who has not budged once since the car was started. I can faintly hear the little snuffling sound he often makes when sleeping. My suspicions of his being exhausted are confirmed. There's just one thing that worries me.  
  
Legolas is sleeping with his eyes closed.  
  
Fifteen minutes or so pass as we drive through the countryside toward home. My mind is running through all the many questions I have for him once he rests and is ready to fill in the blanks of the past week of my life. I am so preoccupied making my list inside my head that I do not notice that the snuffling sound has ceased until my mind registers that the softly whispered sound I heard was my name spoken aloud.  
  
"al?" he whispers again, unmoving.  
  
"What is it?" I whisper back, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of blond hair behind his pointed ear.  
  
"I faeld dem."  
  
{ WHAT??? } my brain says.  
  
"Legolas. . ." I begin, before he cuts in again.  
  
"I faeld dem, al. I leat dem doewn. At Helm's Deep. Araporn wuz kountin oen me tu keel dat Uruk, an I naeld heem twiece, buet he deed noet faell. He maed it tu da waell wid dat toarch, aen den dere wuz dis eggsploeshun, an. . .an . . . ."  
  
"Shhh. Quiet now. You need to rest." I stroke the back of his neck and his shoulders as best I can reach. "We can talk about it all later. Right now you have been through so much, and I am just so glad that you are here. Just rest now, ok?"  
  
He snuggles in tighter and is silent the rest of the ride home.  
  
I add another word of description to my list.  
  
Guiltridden.  
  
  
  
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When we arrive home, the turkey breast that was left baking in the oven is now done. While the Prance takes a short soak in the tub, I help in the kitchen as Yes Dear the Cook adds corn, peas, scalloped potatoes, green beans, stuffing, and salad to the menu. We top it all off with a chocolate cake hastily poured from the box and stuck into the still warm oven, frosted while still hot.  
  
Legolas shovels in the food like he has been existing entirely on lembas for the past week. Except for his adventure behind the candy counter, of which I am still patiently awaiting an explanation, he probably hasn't had much to eat this week anyway. Usually the dinner table is a lively place, with the television running and everyone talking at the same time telling about their day or the latest joke they heard. Not tonight. The worrier Prance speaks only twice, once to ask for more potatoes and once to ask to be excused. I grant him both.  
  
While Yes Dear and I wash up the rest of the dishes, Legolas returns to the kitchen. He hangs around the sink, looking for something to do. I know what it is that he is thinking of now. It is not hard to guess from the longing in his eyes as he watches Little Pip playing with her new Harry Potter toys and her new Nancy Drew game on the Gameboy.  
  
Legolas thinks he has missed Christmas.  
  
It's true that there are absolutely no stores open in a small town on Christmas Day where you can sneak off and purchase just the right gift for the elf who just HAPPENED to appear unexpectedly on your doorstep. He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to return at all.  
  
Fortunately, as a Girl Scout leader, I have been trained to expect the unexpected and to follow the motto, "Be Prepared." I hand the Prance my dishtowel, and nudging him toward my place beside Yes Dear at the drainboard, I tell him, "Be a dear and finish those up for me, ok?"  
  
From Little Pip's pile of presents, I help her select and wrap something that she got that Legolas will love most. Looking over Yes Dear's pile, I easily find the perfect gift that keeps on giving for him to contribute. As for my own pile, well, I couldn't have done better had I gone out and made the purchase on the spot myself.  
  
Little Pip hurriedly places the gifts underneath the Christmas tree. Grinning a secret smile at me, she grabs Legolas by the arm, saying, "Aren't you even gonna open your presents and see what we got you for Christmas?"  
  
I pluck the dishtowel from his hand as he stands staring openmouthed at her. The first real smile of the day breaks across his countenance like the dawning of a new day after a terrible storm. In a flash, the Prance and Little Pip are racing for the front room and the tree, giggling all the way.  
  
When Yes Dear and I get there, Legolas is standing in front of the tree, gaping at the tiny pile of three brightly wrapped gifts on the floor. Each is wrapped in the brightest, gaudiest scrap of paper we had left, and Little Pip has taped the biggest bows from the bow box to the top of each one.  
  
"Ael of dese ar fur me?" he whispers breathlessly.  
  
"Yep," answers Little Pip. "Hurry up, or it's gonna be next Christmas before you open them!"  
  
He plops down quickly amongst the branches of the Christmas tree, picking up one of the presents.  
  
"That's from Yes Dear," I tell him. My husband gives me a suspicious look. He doesn't remember shopping for the Prance.  
  
Legolas rips the shiny gold paper from the package, tossing it aside in a flurry of action. He uncovers his sweetest desire: A 5 ounce, 3 inch square Chunky candy bar.  
  
"Hannon le!" he exclaims.  
  
"Open another one!" urges Little Pip, now totally into the present exchange thing all over again. "Here, this one's from me, open it next!" She hands him the foot square box covered in wrapping paper with little kittens playing with strands of lightbulbs.  
  
He tears off the paper, only to find a smaller box wrapped with puppies wearing Santa hats inside. "Thaenk u, Leedle Peep," he says in a puzzled voice.  
  
"No, dummy, you get to open it again!" she tells him. "It's a present inside a present!"  
  
"Ooohhh. . . .I git id!" he exclaims, tearing off the puppy paper and opening the box, only to find yet another brightly wrapped gift inside. This goes on for 3 more boxes before he finally reaches the prize inside.  
  
"Oehh, Leddle Peep, I aelwaez waentd won of dese!" he gasps, lifting the blue bottle of 'Morning Glory' body mist spray from Calgon from the box.  
  
"Look in the bottom, there's more!" she says, pushing his hand out of the way and digging around until she comes up with the other half of the prize.  
  
"whut IZ dat?" he queries, cocking his head.  
  
"It's a 'Strawberry Mud Pack Facial Peel'!" she says. "You really need one of these things!"  
  
He stares for a moment at the woman on the package, wondering I suppose if he has to wear cucumber slices on his own eyelids while using the pink colored mask like she is wearing.  
  
"One more," I tell him, pointing to the package wrapped in blue with the reindeer and the elves loading Santa's sleigh on it. He pauses, a bit overwhelmed but much happier looking than he has been all day.  
  
"Dis won's frum u, huh al?" he inquires. Without waiting for my answer, he pops off the bow and shreds the paper. He stops, staring at the package's contents with his mouth hanging open, a little round O formed by his lips.  
  
"Oeh, al!" he breathes. "I deedn't thaenk I wuld eber git won of dese. . .!"  
  
"It is yours to do with as you please," I say. "You can leave it in the box, or take it out and play with it, whatever you want. It's yours."  
  
"Look, Dad, Legolas got a TTT doll so he can play with himself!" crows Little Pip.  
  
"It'z noet a doell," growls the Prance, "it'z an akshun feeguer!"  
  
"It's a doll," says Yes Dear.  
  
"Noe id'z noet!" shouts the Prance.  
  
"Don't tease him," I chide. "After all, it's Christmas, and we are supposed to have peace on Earth and goodwill to men on this day."  
  
"An elves tu!" Legolas adds.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
Soon all is well, and Legolas and Little Pip are inspecting each other's toys and playing with them together. Yes Dear and I sit in our chairs, watching TV and listening to them chatter in the front room.  
  
"You know, we still don't know what happened," my other half begins. "We still don't know how he managed to pull off changing worlds again, and I still want to know how he managed to do $300.00 worth of damage to the candy counter."  
  
"He'll tell, in time," I respond. "We just have to wait. He's never been one to keep a secret."  
  
Bedtime approaches, and after I tuck Little Pip in, I hear Legolas call my name from his room. He's already under the covers, and the world's happiest cat is tucked between his knees.  
  
"Luuk at da Preensis Eleezabef! She meesed me," he says.  
  
"We all have missed you, nin mellon. Tomorrow I will show you what all the people who love you have written to say about your leaving. You have left many broken hearts in your wake."  
  
He blushes, ducking his head. When he looks up, he asks me, "Deed Saenta com?"  
  
"Yes, he did," I answer. "I thought you'd never ask. Stay right here, he left something here just for you . . . ." I move off the edge of the bed and leave the room, returning momentarily with his gift from jolly old Saint Nick hidden behind my back.  
  
"Close your eyes," I tell him from the doorway. He does so immediately, like a well-trained soldier.  
  
"Hold out your hands." Into his waiting palms I place the one thing he wants but would never ask anyone for. I have known about his desire for some time now, having watched his looks of envy and answered his subtle questions enough to know the answer to his need. Santa was a wise one indeed to include this in the sleigh.  
  
"An elf haet! Oeh, boey, I nead won of dose!" He places the green felt fabric hat on his head, leaping from the bed and bounding to the mirror on the back of the bedroom door. He smiles at himself, then shakes his long blond locks, making the bell on the end of the pointed green hat jingle.  
  
Watching him stand there, I am thankful for so many things, but most of all that he is back, safe and sound. He breaks my own reverie as he speaks again, still staring at his reflection in the mirror.  
  
"Whin I kliemd uep oen Saenta Klauez' laep, I wuz shuer dat my weesh culd noet com tru. I thot I wuz axin moer dan culd poessibly eber bea."  
  
He pauses, drawing in a deep breath.  
  
"What did you ask for?" I whisper, suspecting that I know already.  
  
He turns to me. "I toeld heem ael I waent iz fur al tu git aen elf fur Chreestmiss. I jest waent u tu bea haeppie. I deed noet noe at da tiem dat da elf wuld bea me."  
  
He smiles, continuing, "Dat Saenta muest hav red da buukz I em een. He tole me ael I neaded tu due wuz tu taelk tu Gandalf. Soe I deed. I dunno hoew he duz heez majik, buet it staerted az suun as da baettl of Helm's Deep wuz ovr. I faelt like I wuz raedeeatin sum kiend of gloew aftur we roed up da hiell luuking tuward Isengard. Da nekz thaeng I neuw, I wuz bak en da mooviee theeater."  
  
He drops his eyes to the floor, embarrassed. "I em soerrie abot da kaendy. I wuz soe huengry an tierd. I deed noet noe hoew tu cuuk da poepkorn or da nochoez an cheaze, soe I haed tu jest eet kaendy. I hoep u ar noet maed at me." He looks up with the puppy dog eyes.  
  
"I could never be mad at you," I tell him, pulling him into another bearhug and squeezing him until he squirms. Turning him loose, I point at the bed. "That is, unless you don't climb into that bed and get some sleep. Princess Elizabeth needs you to warm her up. Tomorrow we can talk about the rest."  
  
Later, as I turn out the rest of the lights and secure the fort for the night, I peek into his room once more. He sleeps flat on his back with eyes open, a sight that used to freak me out but now is so welcome. The familiar little snuffling sound wafts through the room with each rise of his chest. I silently say the prayer in my heart:  
  
Thank you, Lord for seeing to our needs, and for sometimes letting us not be too old for our wants to hurt us.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
Elvish Translations:  
  
Mae Govannen: Well met, a form of Elvish greeting  
  
Hannon le: Thank you  
  
Nin mellon: my friend  
  
  
  
As you can see, Legolas is in need of one more day's rest before resuming much activity. I hope to let him read the wonderful things you have said to him and to me while he was gone in the morning. I promise to feed him well, and make him rest, so that he will be ready to answer all of you soon. Thank you so much for being there to support both of us!  
  
Special Thank You's go to TreeHugger, "The Beta of Tears and Laughter", and to PuterPatty, "The Beta of Extra Commas and Spaces and Letters and Things." I love you guys. I really do. 


	3. A Virgin for Mary Sue

L/N: Thaenk u tu all of u whoe waeted soe pashuntlee fur me tu raest an rekuver frum my treep bak tu Meedle-erth. I apreesheate all da kiend wurdz an lub dat u seant tu me, an espaeshully dose u seant tu al. I wuz wurried abot her, buet all of u tuuk vary guud caer of her wile I wuz goen.  
  
Dere wear sum dat wear noet vary pashunt. My Ada, da guud an wiez Keeng Thranduil, whoe libz wid JaestaElf, sed I shuld remiend u dat "dose peeple whoe kinnot sae sumthin niece tu uthrz, shuld noet sae anithang at all. "  
  
Wait a minute, Legolas. Your Ada said THAT??  
  
Yeas, he deed. Noew, oen wid da stoerrie soe we kin git tu da lub ledderz, okae?  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter 3 A Virgin For Mary Sue  
  
  
  
"You would have had my head on a platter if I hadn't done SOMETHING!" shouts Yes Dear.  
  
"SUICIDE WATCH??? ARE YOU NUTS???" I shout back.  
  
"Well, you didn't want him in there with the other prisoners, did you? For crying out loud, he'd be a sitting duck!"  
  
He's right. Legolas would have been outnumbered even if he COULD have done anything to help himself, locked up in there with the regular inmates. Being isolated from the others was probably the best chance he had.  
  
"But Brad said. . . ," I begin, then stop, unable to even contemplate how hard that must have been for him. Brad is a friend of ours who works as a backup cop on nights and weekends, when he is not doing his regular job. He told us once that when a prisoner is placed on solitary confinement and suicide watch, all items the prisoner could use to hurt himself are removed from the cell. That means no shoelaces, no belt, no bedsheets, nothing that could be torn into long strips and used as a rope to hang oneself. Including clothing.  
  
"Whut'z goen oen?" asks the Prance, drawn to the kitchen by our raised voices.  
  
Yes Dear and I stand glaring silently at each other, each daring the other to try and explain to Legolas what happened. Finally, I tell him, "Legolas, we are sorry about what happened to you at the prison."  
  
He cocks his head to the left and gives me the Thranduil eyebrow.  
  
"I mean, we're sorry they locked you up, and that the other prisoners were trying to touch you, and that you weren't allowed to call us, and that you had to let a stranger have your weapons, and that they put you all by yourself in a strange place, and that they took your clothes away, and.."  
  
"U souend like Brethil," he says. "Dey deed not taek my kloez, an dere wuz a poeliseman wid me all da tiem. I wuz neber aloen, an dey wear vary niece tu me. I wuz noet afraed, al. Noet at all."  
  
Suddenly, I feel much better. I really do.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
We head down to visit the Grammar Laedee in Charleston for a late Christmas. She' s laid out a feast of all Legolas' favorite foods, from the banana pudding to the Hershey's Miniatures hidden in the little candy tin. He's literally in hog heaven.  
  
She's got CABLE TV. There's Gilligan's Island and MASH and Fantasy Island. There's MTV and the Animal Planet, and he's positively giddy over The Crocodile Hunter. When my brother asks to go see "The Two Towers" with me, Legolas doesn't move from his nest of pillows on the floor. I didn't even ask him if he wanted to ride with us.  
  
Turns out he never noticed I was gone. No wonder they call it the One Eyed God.  
  
  
  
Sunday dawns bright and clear. My mom is excited that we will finally get a chance to go with her to her new church. It's a medium sized one, and the dress is fairly casual. She wants us to hear the choir sing, since that is something Legolas and I both enjoy at our home church.  
  
We play the customary "meet and greet" game, the one where you pretend you remember everyone who claims they knew you when you were small. While Mom and I gush over the incredible feats of the grandchildren of the woman sitting next to us in our pew, Legolas and Yes Dear peruse the bulletin. I can just see them out of the corner of my eye.  
  
"I noe dat soeng," says the Prance, pointing at the first hymn. "I noe dat won tue."  
  
They continue down the page until they reach the heading "SACRIFICE". It is written in large bold letters. Legolas looks up at Yes Dear, his eyes wide. His next statement is loud enough that even I look to see if what I heard is true.  
  
"Hae, id sez hear dey ar gunna hav a sakriefise!"  
  
"Yep," answers Yes Dear, face impassive.  
  
Legolas sits patiently, awaiting further information from Yes Dear. When nothing more comes, he decides to turn his statement into a question.  
  
"Ar dey reely gunna hav a sakriefise?" he questions.  
  
"Yep," answers Yes Dear.  
  
The Prance sits quietly again, contemplating this. His bright elven eyes scan the room, searching the congregation to see if the unwitting victim might be sitting amongst us. Finding mostly gray hair making up the audience, he decides to risk another question.  
  
"A yung won?"  
  
"Yep," answers Yes Dear. He leans over and whispers something into Legolas' ear.  
  
Legolas sits back, his eyes scanning again.  
  
As I settle back when the prelude begins, I notice that the Prance has changed his normal posture. At our church, he normally sits leaning back in his seat with knees apart in his 'Council of Elrond' pose. Now he is sitting bolt upright with his legs clamped together and his hands tucked between his thighs. His bright eyes glance furtively about the room.  
  
"Is something wrong?" I ask him.  
  
"Noep," he answers.  
  
We stand for the first hymn, and I notice that he misses several of the notes from the tenor harmony, and sings the first phrase of the second verse twice instead of moving on to the third. Legolas loves to sing, especially the more complicated tenor parts, and for him to bungle a single note on a hymn he knows so well is totally unheard of.  
  
"Legolas, are you sure you are ok?" I ask as we sit back down.  
  
"Yeap," he answers, never taking his eyes off the happenings at the pulpit.  
  
We make our way through the order of service, and by the time we reach the choir's anthem, he is literally sitting on the edge of the pew. Someone behind us drops their hymnal, and he jump-starts so hard into my side that my teeth clack together.  
  
"What is wrong?" I hiss through my teeth.  
  
"Nuthen," he gulps, looking around anxiously. I catch a glimpse of Yes Dear, who is trying so hard to stifle his laughter that he looks like he is having a continuous barrage of the hiccups. Arms crossed over his chest with one hand at his lips, he is biting his index finger and squeezing his eyes shut. Something is definitely going on here.  
  
When the choir finishes, the ushers stand and move to the altar to get the collection plates for the offering. Legolas can contain himself no longer.  
  
"Eggskuse me, pleeze," he blurts, leaping over Little Pip and I and scrambling toward the aisle, pushing quickly past my mom and the grandmother at the end of our row. He bolts up the aisle and out the door, blond mane flying, as Yes Dear lets out a snort. My mother is glaring bullets at the two of us now.  
  
"What have you done?" I ask Yes Dear.  
  
"Nothing," he replies between giggles.  
  
The ushers move from pew to pew, we sing The Lord's Prayer, and soon we are finished with the second hymn and have started to listen to the reading of the scripture. Still no Legolas. Yes Dear has calmed down but still emits a soft bubble or two of laughter every so often.  
  
When he still hasn't returned by the time the last hymn begins, I excuse myself to go make sure he is all right. I find him pacing on the sidewalk outside the sanctuary door.  
  
"What is it?" I demand. "What is the matter with you?"  
  
"Ar dey luukin fur me?" he gasps, clearly upset.  
  
"Why in the world would anyone be looking for you?" I ask, totally lost at this point.  
  
"Yes Dear sed dey wear gunna sakriefiese a veergeen dis moerning," he gulps. "A veergeen wid loeng bloend hare!"  
  
Before I can digest this, the church doors open and the congregation begins to pour out into the courtyard.  
  
"Hear dey com!" shouts the Prance, taking off in a dead run for the woods behind the church.  
  
"LEGOLAS!" I call, trying to run after him while holding up the skirt of my ankle-length green velvet dress. I stop at the edge of the woods, knowing full well there is no reason to follow him further. An elf who wishes to hide himself in the woods is one best left until he is good and ready to come out on his own.  
  
Yes Dear joins me, still laughing. "What did you say to him?" I demand.  
  
"All I said was that usually the word sacrifice implied the offering of a virgin," crows Yes Dear, "and that this church preferred virgins with long blond hair."  
  
I put it all together. Where we have the offering and pass the collection plate, my mother's church calls the same thing the Sacrifice. Though he was just teasing Legolas, it seems that Yes Dear may have just uncovered a little secret about our Prance.  
  
From the treetops above, I hear a soft voice call, "al?"  
  
"yes?"  
  
"Iz it saef tu com out noew? Are dey all goen?"  
  
I glance back at the church where the last of the little old ladies are climbing into their cars.  
  
"Yes," I tell him, "it's safe now. The service is over."  
  
I hear his sight of relief all the way from here. Next thing I know, he drops silently to the ground beside me.  
  
"Dat wuz klose!" he breathes.  
  
Yes Dear turns and starts back toward the parking lot, his shoulders still shaking from his laughter.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's Note from al: Big thanks to TreeHugger for the morale beta'ing and for her patience in awaiting the "gift" I have for her, and another Big Thanks to PuterPatty, who looked for stray commas and all sorts of other things I thought I had already cleaned up. She's good. She's REAL GOOD.  
  
And now, what you have all been waiting almost a month for. . . *hands out drool buckets and rolls of paper towels*. . . I present:  
  
Lub Ledderz frum Legolas:  
  
  
  
HAE EBERYWON!! I EM BAK!!  
  
I meesed all of u soe muech. I hoep I remimber tu anser all of dese kwestshuns! Hear we goe:  
  
Seaweed: I muest git nockd out ebery tiem I goe frum Meedle-erth tu Moedrn- erth. It tuuk me awile tu feal bedder dis tiem. *huegz an keesez fur u!* Itz an akshun FEEGUR I tael u, noet a doell! Dat Gimli soert of groewz oen u, duzn't he?  
  
Estina: I wuz tu tierd tu bea hieper. *huegz u*  
  
Lady Silence: Kin I hav won of doze Tweezlrz? Oer deed Alli eet dem al? *Beeegu hueg fur u*  
  
Hiro-tyre: I hoep u ar okae noew? Dat wuz a lot tu reed all at wonce! *beeg skweeaze fur u*  
  
Karone: It wuz da chaerrie oen da ise kreem dat maed me com bak. *geeglez!* *smuuch*  
  
Newmoon: I deed mees u! Taep daensin oen da edje of Mownt Duum? Dat iz sumptin I weel keap en miend. Woo Hoo iz sumptin dat Celeborn sez whin I em en Lothlorien. Der iz sumptin abot seain me dat maekz heem wanna speand eggstra tiem keesin wid Galadriel. I doent git it misef ethr. Mebbe u culd ask Nancing Elf, id wuz her ideea. *elbin lub fur u!*  
  
Lou: Da akshun feegur of misef iz a perty guud gieft tu, doent u thaenk? *greinz an huegz u*  
  
leail: I wuz kwiet tierd whin I got bak, buet noew I feal bedder. Meesed u! *smuuch fur u*  
  
Michelle: I DUE REELY like kaendee. Hoew culd u tael? *hueggz*  
  
Andy's Princess: I em glaed u like wachin me at da moovee. U soend soe eggsited tu sea me! *huegz an keesez* I meesed u tu!  
  
The Two Princesses: al iz gittin tu bea kwite a furmidible worrier, doent u thaenk? I meesed u all. Hearz sum of doze x an o'z fur u: xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo Deed u like it whin I juempd oen Arod?  
  
Anja: ff.net muest hav bean loest widout me. Da site wuz a meass de hole tiem I wuz goen. Noew I em bak, an thaengz seam tu bea bedder alreedy! *huegz u!*  
  
Puter Patty: Woew. I lub da waey u suemd eberythang up. Eberywon shuld goe an reed PuterPatty's reeveew fur Chaeptr 1. Okae, steek ur eer uep hear a'amelamin, I hav sumptin tu tael u. *wheesprz* *grienz* Okae? *BEEG HUEGZ U!* *Deepz u* *an a snoeg tu!*  
  
JastaElf: Roeyall Baeksied?? *glaencez ober shoueldr* Yeas Deer waents tu noe if heez chek iz en da male. Thaenkz, Ada, fur ur guud an wieze wurdz. I lub u boef! *keesez fur u bof, buet Jasta's eez a snoeg oen da leepz, an Ada's ez a peack on da cheak.*  
  
laure: U goet soe eggsited u deed a Legolas! Deed u puesh da buetton 3 tiemz? Hehehe. *Huegz u fur da eaffurt* A poester? Fur me? *daensez arond* Hannon le! Thaenkz fur ur kiend wurdz tu.  
  
Stimpy: I taestd alot of da deefrint kiendz of kaendee, an da maen maed us pae fur all da opean bokzez eben if I deed noet eet it all. *huegz u!*  
  
IRENA: LUUK, HEAR IT IZ! KIN U FIEND IT EEF I TIPE REEL BEEG LIKE DIS??? She kald me SHMOOPIE!! *faentz* Ar u okae, Rwalaer? Noe taelk of leathur an chaenz dis tiem? U muest hav thot u haed reely loest me. I em soerrie tu skare u, melethron. I em hear fur u noew. *klozez eyez and keesez u teandrlee wile reechin fur da maesage kreem*  
  
Chelsey: I thot I saew u luurkin ouet dere. I hav elbin eyez, u noe. I em thrield u deesided tu fienaly reeveew! *huegz* Due it agin, okae?  
  
Skye Rocket: I EM BAK!!! Eeaak! Whut ar we eakin abot? Due u need a hueg tu? *Huegz!*  
  
Abbey Road: al sez thaenkz, she neaded dat cueddl. Kin I hav won tu? *cueddlz u* I em glaed u joiend us! Awstrailya? Dat souendz like fuen!  
  
Magical Rachel: al sez tu tael u she deed noet deesied tu due a seekwill. It juest haeppnd. *huegs u* I meesed u tu! I lub dat luuk oen ur faece! Due it agin! *keesez*  
  
Legolana Greenleaf: Luuk at u daensin! Teech me sum of dose, okae? An peenut budder kuepz ar da beast, aernt dey??! *huegz*  
  
Vladimirs Angel: *waevz* Hae baybee tu u tuu! Trubel? *luukz arond* Deed u sae I wuz en trubel? I doent sea eny trubel. . .al an I DUE nead eech uthr. We hav a vary uenusuel relaeshunsheep, doent u thaenk? *beeg hueg fur u*  
  
TreeHugger: Buet I EM a perty boey, u sea?! I deed remimbr da pone nuembr. I haed all niet tu thaenk abot it. I rote doewn da nuembrz, den da laedee poelisewuman luuked al'z naem up en da pone buuk an mached da nuembrz up fur me. Due u thaenk I em spoyld? I doent smael anithang *lieftz aerm an sneefz* Mebee I shuld taed anuthr baf. . . .Yeas Deer huegz a leedle like Haldir. My Ada deed teech me weel. Yeas Deer sez tu tael eberybuddie dat al DEED NOET CUUK eni of da Chreestmiss deener. She kint cuuk a thaeng. Weel, mebbe greeld cheaze samwitches. She gitz tu maek da saelid an kleenup. Hae Brethil! Hae Elu! Hae Natebuddie and Cowgirl KK12! Hae Meestr Ron! *huegz an keesez fur da gurlz, an haendshaeks wid da men*  
  
Arilyn: Woaw! Dat wuz sum hueg! I like ur daense. Due it agin? I thaenk u ar da sweatest leedle thaeng tu! *keesez u!*  
  
Laura: Hannon le, Laura! Dat meenz thaenk u en elvish. Da jael wuz noet soe baed, dey wear vary niece tu me dere. Thaenk u fur maekin me feal bedder abot Helm's Deep. Dat heped alot. *huegz *  
  
SarWolfe Snape: *geeglz* I shuld bea sweat aftur eetin all dat kaendee! *huegs an a kees tu u!*  
  
Darth Yak: I em jest glaed I deed noet hav tu ware ruebee glaess sleeprz an sae "Dere'z noe plaece like hoem, dere'z noe plaece like hoem" I wuld NEBER bea aebl tu liv dat won doewn. U okae? *skweazes u*  
  
ElvenPrincess-Gwenedh: WooHoo! (c Celeborn) *huegz u!*  
  
Nilmandra: Dere u ar! I thot I saew u haengin arond out dere. I em glaed u fienaly rote soe I culd sae Hae tu u! *beeg hueg!*  
  
Eileen: I lub my akshun feegur! It iz reely cuul. Due u hav won? I em glaed tu bea bak tu! *hueg*  
  
Karri: U maed me feal bedder saeyn doze kiend wurdz of supoert. Kin I hav a hueg tu? *huegz u*  
  
Mickie: Whutz haerd tu ketch-da bierdz, or doze Dwarfz? LOL! OEH YEAH, BAYBEE! (c Legolas) Da Daytona 500 iz comeen owr wae! *VAARUUM VAARUUM!!* Iz Tony ur faevoriet? I wanna driev da beeg broewn Truk! *smuuchez u!*  
  
Jazz: Dere iz nuthin kwite like comin hoem tu chear u up. I deedn't eet all da kaendee, buet I DEED oepn a loet of da bokzez. *sweat kees fur u*  
  
OverCast Day: Hae dere! Kin u due dat daense agin? I wuz tryen tu laern dat won. Guud luk oen ur taest. Whin due u taek it? Hearz a kees fur luk . . .*kees!*  
  
borednhyper: MMmmmm. . . Kiet Kaet Bietz. I aet all of doze dat dey haed. U mite bedder tael da truf tu ur fraiend abot me. Itz a biet kroewdid uendrneeth a bed. Duesty tu. *Beeg hueg*  
  
gershwin: Ada haz sum blue haenkeez if u kaent fiend won of Lord Elrondz. *huegs u, den snoegz u a guud won!* tea hea!  
  
Endomiel: U liked dat shoet I deed oen dat roep? Peese of kake! Dat'll teech dem tu meas wid da guud sied. *keesez u*  
  
anna: I em fealin muech bedder noew. It wuz guud tu bea bak an tu sleap en a reel bead an eet reel fuud agin. *snuegglez u*  
  
Lady Peredhel: Luuk, al! Anuthr won whoe haz neber doen it beafour! TeaHea! I doent hav eny kaevitiez. I em vary kareful tu bruesh my teef all da tiem. *keesez u* Sea??  
  
isilwen: I due feal muech bedder, thaenks tu all da kiend thaengz peepl hav sed tu enkurage me. I meesed u tu! Hueg me, okae? *huegz* MMmmmm, dat's bedder!  
  
ithinkineedanewname: I meesed u tu! *luukz beahiend me* Wach my bak fur whut? Oeh, u meen my Roeyall Baeksied? Dere ar shure enuf peepl weeling tu hep me wid dat! *snog fur u*  
  
Dagmar of Avalon: Guud tu sea u agin! I em bak, wid loetz of thaengz tu tale u. *huegz tu u!*  
  
Yuffie-Girl: Jest hereing frum u cheard me uep! Elves doent groew hare on dere gutz.~Legolas, she meant gut ache as in stomache, not gutache spelled and pronounced like moustache, even though they look similar. ~ Dey DUE luuk aliek! Hearz a kees fur u! *KEES*  
  
Rose: Dat pikshur iz "faek me," noet reel me. I em pertier dan heem. I mite be bloend, buet eben I noe Merry an Pippin ar steel en Meedle-erth. Bloendz ar smaertr dan u theenk. As fur noet anserin ur reeveewz, u deed noet rite tu me unteel aftur I wuz goen bak tu Meedle-erth, an dis iz da fuerst tiem I hav fealt uep tu tipin seense my reatuern. My Adar sed tu bea shur tu tael u pashinse iz a veertue. *hueg*  
  
Sea u neks tiem!  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
You all know what to do. Let Legolas feel the love, baby! Send him a message by pressing the review button below. He gets so excited reading each and every one of your messages! This chapter was a bit hard for him; I don't think he wanted you to know about what happened this time, but the anticipation of answering all of you outweighed the anxiety. He's funny that way, especially when he's hopped up on sugar. Thanks again for all your love and encouragement! 


	4. The Greatest Show on Earth

A/N: Sorry about the "delay." Actually, I think all of you got spoiled on the twice a week posts there before TTT came to the theaters, didn't you??? Go ahead, 'fess up. Truth is, I've gotten bitten by the real life bug that takes a chunk out of all of us on occasion, but that's another chapter as that story is continuing to unfold. Coming to a screen near you, as soon as I can catch up again.  
  
For now, I present to you, for your viewing pleasure, the One, the Only, the Most Fabulous, the Most Fantastic, Live in front of you right this Very Instant, . . .  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Chapter 4 The Greatest Show on Earth  
  
Yes Dear comes home Wednesday evening sporting four, count 'em, FOUR tickets to the Bi-lo Center for next Saturday. Front row seats, to be exact, to the matinee performance of "The Greatest Show on Earth."  
  
"Whooopeee!" shouts Little Pip, dancing around.  
  
"Whut?" asks the Prance, uncomprehending. "Whut?"  
  
"We're going to the CIRCUS!" she shouts, locking arms with him and spinning him around in a circle.  
  
He follows the movements of her dance, grinning madly, caught up in her excitement. As they spin he inquires again, "Whut iz a seerkus?"  
  
She laughs at him, stopping her spinning and turning him to face her, grabbing him by both shoulders.  
  
"A circus, precioussssss," she teases, "is a show that you go to that has all kinds of wild animals, and . . . ."  
  
"Like da zew, u meen?" he cuts in, thinking maybe he's 'been there and done that' already since he watches 'Pee Bea Ess' and they have wild animal shows on there all the time. Even Sesame Street and Mister Rogers have shown clips of the zoo.  
  
"No, no, not like the zoo," she says. "These animals are special. They can do tricks and things. There are elephants who can play basketball, and the horses dance and walk around on their back legs. The tigers jump through flaming hoops and things like that."  
  
"Woew!" exclaims the Prance. "We hav oliphants een Meedle-erth, buet dey doen't noew hoew tu plae baeskitbaell." The Prance is very familiar with basketball, as he has watched many a game this winter with Yes Dear from the rocking chair in the den.  
  
"There are acrobats, and trapeze artists. . . ."  
  
"Arteestz?" he interrupts. "I lub aert! Due dey paynt wile u wach dem?"  
  
"No, dummy," she replies, thumping him on the chest, "Trapeze artists fly through the air high above the ground, turning somersaults and things."  
  
"Like buddrfliez?" he asks, confused.  
  
"Nevermind," she answers, "you'll see. There are also motorcycle riders, and a tightrope walker, and clowns. . . ."  
  
"Cloewnz?" the Prance gulps. "I doen't like cloewnz."  
  
"Why not, Legolas?" I ask. I didn't think he even knew what a clown was, much less knew enough to have an opinion of them.  
  
"Cloewnz ar skeerie," he says with a shudder. "Dey maek me git guusepeemplz."  
  
"No, they aren't!" Little Pip scoffs. "Clowns are funny. They have make- believe fights and wear pants that are too big so they keep falling down."  
  
"Enough already," I tell them both. "Off to wash for supper."  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The week passes by quickly, at least for me. Legolas and Little Pip would beg to differ. They spend most of the time looking for advertisements for the show on the TV and thumbing through the books about the circus that I have drug home from the library.  
  
Soon, the big day is here. Time for "The Greatest Show on Earth."  
  
Traffic around the arena is terrible. There isn't a parking garage, and the folks in the neighboring houses often provide spaces in driveways and front lawns-for a price.  
  
Legolas is already caught up in the excitement. "We kin paerk dere," he says, pointing to a spot curbside, unfortunately marked with yellow paint and directly in front of a fire hydrant. Yes Dear passes it up. Thinking maybe Yes Dear's human ears are failing him, Legolas raises his voice as he points to a spot on the front lawn of a house with a meticulously groomed yard covered in a rich shade of bright green winter rye grass.  
  
"Hoew abot dere?!" he invites.  
  
Yes Dear rolls his eyes and keeps going. There is a woman in a bright yellow raincoat standing in the road ahead waving a homemade orange traffic wand built from a piece of rolled up orange construction paper, gesturing wildly to get our attention and pointing off to her left.  
  
"Iz she a cloewn?" asks the Prance to no one in particular. "She forgoet her maekuep."  
  
She is quite comical, especially since it is very sunny outside and there is not a drop of rain for miles. Yes Dear follows her crazy gesticulations, and soon we are parked in what I assume to be the woman's back yard. She comes to the driver's side window and announces, "That'll be five dollars."  
  
Yes Dear makes a face but coughs up the bill. He's tired of the traffic already. We climb out of the car and begin to do our last minute check.  
  
"Money?" asks Yes Dear.  
  
"Check," I answer, patting my front right pocket.  
  
"Tickets?" he asks again.  
  
"Check," I answer again, patting my left jacket pocket.  
  
He begins to head for the sidewalk. Little Pip begins her list.  
  
"Tissues?" she asks.  
  
"Check," I say, feeling in my right jacket pocket for the handy travel pack.  
  
"Cough drops?  
  
"Check," also located in the pocket with the tissues. Little Pip heads for her place beside her Daddy.  
  
Legolas is standing beside the rear door of the car, staring at me with a puzzled expression on his fair face.  
  
"What is the matter with you?" I inquire.  
  
"I wuz wundring eef u haed a plaec tu puet my koemb."  
  
Sighing, I wonder how he will live without it long enough for me to get it into my pocket. I reach out my hand palm-up for him to hand it over. He takes one last quick go through his immaculate blond locks with the comb, using the side-view mirror of the car, then hands it over with a sigh of his own and turns to join the rest of the family.  
  
The funny thing is, he's got 4 pockets of his own in the blue jeans he is wearing. Maybe they are too tight for the comb to fit comfortably, I think to myself. With a quick glance, I size him up. The jeans are tight, but not too tight for a comb to fit in the back pocket. I think he just wants to be a part of the pocket check brigade myself.  
  
Soon we are standing in the mob of parents and screaming youngsters waiting to enter the arena. There is a little boy of about 3 years old in line behind me who grasps the back hem of my jacket every time we move forward up the 40 or so stairs to the top where the entrance is located. Thinking how I miss the times when Little Pip was small, I look over to see Legolas is having his own set of difficulties with the steps.  
  
There is little girl about 4 years old in the cutest pink princess outfit standing behind him. On her head is the most elaborate pink plastic princess crown I have ever seen. It is holding the masses of curls atop her head in the most princess-like arrangement of hairstyles since the last Little Miss USA pageant. Every time she ascends a step, she carefully lifts the hem of her pink princess gown with both tiny hands so that she can see her little matching pink ballet slippers. As she looks back up, the pink plastic crown gives the Prance a nice little goose right in the rear. This has been going on for at least 15 steps, and I don't see it stopping before the 40th one is finally attained. I have a hard time controlling my giggles. Legolas just shrugs and grins, squinching his eyes shut as she gets him once again.  
  
I hold the four tickets out to the man with the scanner, who runs the laser light over them quickly and efficiently. Each of us steps through the turnstiles; of course, Legolas has to pause and see if the bar will go around backwards as well.  
  
Once inside, we make our way through the mob to our section. A nice gentleman in a maroon polo shirt checks our seat numbers and shows us where to find them. All three rings have performers interacting with the crowd as a warm-up already. In the first ring, the audience members are doing a version of country line dancing. In the center ring, a man with a scruffy black dog is trying to get the dog to climb into a suitcase, but the dog is running into the crowd and then as the man searches for him, the dog slips up behind him and knocks him down repeatedly. In the third ring, a troop of acrobats are lining children up in a row and leaping over them, turning somersaults in the air.  
  
I find it impossible to keep my eyes on more than one thing at the time. I glance over at Legolas, who is watching everything at once in rapt attention, mouth gaping open. We finally get to the front row and scramble over each other until everyone is satisfied with the seating arrangements. Legolas hasn't taken his eyes off the happenings in front of us once the whole time. It takes a tiny push to get him to sit down.  
  
"I would like a snowcone," says Little Pip. "Dad, will you go with me to get one?"  
  
"Sure," says Yes Dear. He glances at Legolas and decides this is not the best time to interrupt. "You want anything?" he asks me.  
  
"How about a drink and some cotton candy?" I ask. Yes Dear makes a face. Cotton candy is not on his list of favorites. He's a sausage dog kind of guy.  
  
They are gone for about 10 minutes before I realize I still have all of the tickets in my pocket. Thinking they might be in the lobby but unable to get back to the seats without a ticket, I turn to tell Legolas that I will be right back. He nods without taking his eyes off the action in all three rings.  
  
I run into them outside the bathrooms. Handing them the tickets, I take a moment myself to get ready for the show. When I return to my seat, the arena is already darkened and the parade has begun. Elephants and horses, clowns and dancing girls, acrobats and tightrope walkers, everyone is making their way around the arena for the opening number. By the time I can find my seat again, the first act is underway.  
  
"Where's Legolas?" I ask Yes Dear as I plop into my seat. "I hate that he's missing this."  
  
"I thought he went to the bathroom when you did," answers Yes Dear.  
  
"No, I left him here staring at the goings-on in all three rings for the pre-show. You mean he wasn't here when you got back?"  
  
"No. He was already gone."  
  
Reaching into my pocket, I realize I never gave a ticket to Legolas. Poor thing, he had to go, and now he's missed the first two numbers because he hasn't got a ticket to get back in. I should have asked him about the bathroom when I went to find Yes Dear and Little Pip before.  
  
"I'll be right back," I tell Yes Dear, handing over my bag of cotton candy with its big baby blue top hat attached. Little Pip quickly confiscates the hat, placing it upon her own head.  
  
"Cool, Mom!" she says.  
  
I make my way to the lobby, but Legolas is nowhere in sight. I hang around outside the men's room, thinking maybe he's still in there, though I wonder what could possibly take him this long since I still have his comb conveniently tucked into my jacket pocket. After a good 10 minutes go by, I am starting to worry. I decide the best plan of action is to go get Yes Dear and have him come check the men's room to see if Legolas is alright.  
  
Returning to my seat, I note that Legolas has not come back on his own while I was scoping the men's room for him. There is a clown act currently going on in the ring directly in front of us, and I think to myself that maybe it is a good thing he has not returned yet. There are about 10 clowns carrying large inflated beach balls of all colors, weaving in and out of each other and doing the wave as they carry the balls around. The colors and movements are really quite fluid and pretty, and sort of relaxing in a way. As I reach for Yes Dear's arm, intending to ask him to check the bathroom for me, the third clown from the front of the line catches my eye.  
  
She is dressed in a rainbow striped dress, not much longer than a tunic really, all purples and oranges and greens and reds and yellows and blues. The stripes run vertically, making her look even thinner and taller than she naturally is. She has on a pair of bright orange tights, and a red hat with holes cut in it so that her pigtails can stick out on either side. Her shoes are not as large as most clown shoes usually are, but the bright red color matches her hat well.  
  
What strikes me as funny about her and makes my eyes focus on her alone is the way she continually looks at the other clowns, almost as if this is her first time doing the routine. She appears to be carefully gauging her actions; every once in awhile she steps off with the right foot when she should have used the left, though quickly correcting herself and keeping up. She laughs in all the right places, even though a little behind the other clowns.  
  
A new grad from clown school, I think to myself. Well, she's a natural!  
  
As the act ends and all the clowns run out of the arena to the left, I watch as three of the other clowns clap her on the back, congratulating her on her performance.  
  
I turn to Yes Dear, handing him Legolas' ticket and asking him about that bathroom check for me, now getting a little worried because Legolas still has not come back. I fear that he may have gotten turned around in the vast arena and is wandering around looking for his seat.  
  
The trapeze artists do their high-flying act, the elephants come on and show their stuff. Still no Legolas. Now there's no Yes Dear either.  
  
In another 5 minutes I am getting a bit desperate. Little Pip is enjoying the show so much I am reluctant to ask her to get up with me and leave to look for the guys, though I think that is exactly what I will be forced to do soon. I wonder if maybe something has happened in the bathroom, and that Yes Dear is hoping I will come to look for him because he can't come to look for me. I have the mind of a mother, and right now it is running rampant, beginning to do all the stranger danger and evil bad guy things again.  
  
About the time I am ready to gather up our things to go, Yes Dear reappears.  
  
"Did you find him?" I ask, trying to control the urgency and panic in my voice.  
  
"No. Not a sign of him," he answers. "I went ahead and alerted the employees assigned to our section area, but I think the best thing we can do for now is just stay put."  
  
As I begin to protest, my befuddled brain registers the second entrance of the clown troupe. The tall skinny girl clown is back, this time with a really overweight lady clown and a medium sized male clown. The two trim and fit clowns are trying to convince the overweight clown to work out on the exercise equipment located in the ring. As the overweight clown finally agrees to try the treadmill machine, the female clown with the pigtails turns directly towards me and makes eye contact. She waves. Just a tiny little sort of hey-it's-really-me sort of wave, not something anyone else in the audience will notice. And then it hits me.  
  
The female clown isn't really a female, or a clown, at all.  
  
"Oh dear God," I hear Yes Dear gulp beside me.  
  
"Hey, Mom, isn't that . . .?" whispers Little Pip.  
  
All I can think of to do is give a tiny little wave back.  
  
Tbc . . .  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Special thanks to PuterPatty for catching the misspellings and the comma errors for me this time. I love you, I really do. I due tu!!! HUSH! In a minute!  
  
You can all thank PP for reminding me that I needed to let you know exactly why Legolas' comb had to go into my jacket pocket, and I quote her directly, "Are his jeans REALLY that tight???"  
  
And now, what you've all been waiting for (geez, I coulda skipped writing and living all that stuff above!) . . .  
  
Lub Ledderz frum Legolas:  
  
PuterPatty: WHUT AR U LAFFIN ABOT?? Bie da Valar, al, deed u bie eny moer of deze tikitz fur dis tikit kowntr thaeng? I hav aelredie loedid it a duzn tiemz, an it iz eemptie agin! I thaenk PP is sneekin uep hear an gittin eggstra tikitz. Hoew come eberybuddie keapz taelkin abot faenfurlz like dey ar woars dan Baelrogz? Heaheahea! "Dueh!" heaheahea! Due dat fuenkie daense fur me, wite gurl! *snoegz u saensliss*  
  
Grammar Laedee: Thaenkz fur da choklitz! Kin u seand sum of dat bandana puedin tu? Da reel hoemaid kiend? Noet dat stuef dat al and Yaes Deer and BEH maed u throew awae, buet da reel thaeng? Oenlee u kin maek it like dat! *huegz an keesiz*  
  
Stimpy: Dey sakriefiese peepl at ur chuerch tu? Du u thaenk dey weel ebber ruen out of veergeenz dere? *hueg*  
  
Magical Rachel: I lub dat luuk! I muest hav maed u haeppie tu! I em a bit wurried tho, u sed tu wach out fur da faengurlz? Whie? al sez tu tael u it weel suun bea reerun tiem on da TV, whuteber dat meenz. * keesiz*  
  
Lily Frost: Hannon le! Dat muest be Leedle Peep'z wield straewbarrie shaempu u smael. Araporn haz alwaez goet wimin trubel. Gimli iz tuf, buet he duz git tierd. Due u nead sum bierdsead fur ur toez? *hueg *  
  
Vladimir's Angel: *hoeldz uep sine dat sez 'blonedz ar dum" wid a lien draewn thru dum * MMMMmmmm. . .malteaser . . . MMmmmmmm. Hannon le! * keesiz*  
  
Lady Silence: Dere wuz an imp hear wid sum Tweezlrz waerin feeshnaet stoekinz. He sed u seant heem. Da CoD'z wear guud tu. Hannon le! *Huegz *  
  
Karri: Yaes Deer izn't meen. He'z jest a beeg smaellie maen like Araporn. He liekz tu teeze me tu, soe I feal rite at hoem. *Hueg fur u!*  
  
The Two Princesses: * XXXXXOOOOOOXXXXOOOOO * I tried tu teech al da hoers moentin moev, buet she iz soe huemin at tiemz! She'z bean noked doewn a hunnerd tiemz at leest, buet she steel keapz tryen. al iz sum teekleesh, buet noet muech. I em noet teekleesh at all. *al pokes Legolas * Are too! Em noet! * al pokes Legolas again * Are too! Daro, al! Nok it oeff! See! *teahea! * I em noet! *geeglz * Are too! * al knocks Lego face down on the floor and sits on his back, grabing one of his bent legs by the foot* NOE! NOE! al, DARO! * al pulls off Lego's shoes* DARO, al! I meen it! Tickle, tickle, Prance Legolas! DARO!!!!! *BWAAHHAAAAHAAAAA!!!!!!! *  
  
Chelsey: Theoden iz faestr dan u thaenk. Plues, doze old peepl wurk tugethr en teemz, like al and Yaes Deer. It doent maettr hoew faest u ar den. Dey goet u. *smuuch*  
  
Jazz: Fiexd? I deent reelize I wuz broek. U doent meen fiexd like da doeg and kaetz, due u? * shueddrz* U bedder hueg me, I nead it. * huegz u bak*  
  
Laura: Hae! Mebbe I shuld git al tu hep me puell a praenk oen Yaes Deer. Dat wuld bea fuen! * Keez fur u*  
  
Sperry Dee: U hav a Naz-Buennie? Woew! Mebbe I culd boerroe it tu taek wid me nekz tiem we goe tu da Grammar Laedee'z chuerch, tu protek me an all. Wuld dat bea okae? *Hueg *  
  
leail: LEAIL!!!! I em soe glaed tu here frum u agin! Seekrit? I doent seam tu hav eny of dose enymoer. * glaerz at al* LEAIL!!!! Soerrie, I haed tu due it agin 'cuz I like hoew it souwndz!! *Deep an a loeng kees fur u! *  
  
Newmoon: I bet u laffed at Yeas Deer'z joek tho, deedn't u? I sumtimez git tu hep al wid da lokal plaez dat she wurkz wid. Whoe deed u pertend tu bea? Ar u fealin da reeleaf from widdrawel yeat? *skweeazez u *  
  
Legolana Greenleaf: MMMmmm! Whur deed u git dese hart shaepd wonz? I lub dem! Dey sae "I lub u!" *she theenkz I rok-woohoo (c Celeborn)! * I em glaed I hav u tu pertekt me! *keesez *  
  
Jaguar Kitty 2006: It iz guud tu bea bak. I hav sean TTT wid al a kuple of tiemz noew. She iz uep tu 10. MMmmmm-Juenyur Meentz ar guud! I dunnoe abot Haldir. I neber goet a chaense tu fiend out misef. *beeg hueg fur u! *  
  
IRENA: GIT KLOESR, BAYBEE!!!!! * squertz maesag kreem oen loeng feengrd haendz* Hoew ar we gunna taek kaer of dis veergeen thaeng, a'maelamin? * ruebz ur nekjest like u like it* Taelk tu me, baybee . . . . *snuegglz * Hae, wach da Royael Baeksied, dere!!!  
  
isilwen: I gess I wuz jest soe bizy wid learning tu bea a guud fiter, dat I goet distraktid an all. Yeas Deer iz noet meen, he jest likez tu teeze me. *Kees! *  
  
Abbey Road: I em glaed tu chear u uep. I like ur naem, I aelso lub da Beetlz! I doent hav a faevorit pearsun, buet my faevorite soeng iz "Paeprbak Riter." Yaes Deer an al hav a loet of dere albumz an a cuple of See Deez, *elbin lub fur u! *  
  
Mickie: Mickie! Mickie! Deed u sea day Bued Shuutowt?? Spead Weak?? Da Tween 125'z?? Woooo Hoooo (c Celeborn)! I lub Dove choklitz. I lub oreoz tu. al sez doent tael tu muech, shez goet a surpriez fur me!!! *huegz u *  
  
Nevavariel: Woew! U red all dat jest fur me?! I em soe eggsited! Glaed u hav joend us! Wekkom! *huegglez u *  
  
Karone: Deedn't u sae u wuld giv me sum ise kreem wid a chaerrie oen da toep? Dat sowndz guud tu me! Choklit, pleeze??!! *beeg hueg *  
  
borednhyper: It shur aen't noe seekrit enimoer, iz it. Deed u sea da neu "faek me"?? *keesez fur u *  
  
Andy's Princess: I haed summoer of Grammar Laedeez bandana pueddin an sum koernd beef an putaetoz, an . . . loetz of thaengz. al sez she iz hoenerd that u thaenk owr stoerree iz dat guud! *snuegglz an kuddlz *  
  
Hiro-tyre: I em gitting perty guud wid da Sea Pee ar, soe I kin saev u ef neaded. Iem glaed u feal bedder! *praktise keesez fur u *  
  
Michelle: Choklit iz da beast eveel dere iz! *noedz * choklit keesez fur u! *  
  
Seaweed: I thaenk dey hav sum kiend of deatektiv deavises tu tael whoe ez a veegeen. I deedn't waent tu wate tu loeng tu fiend owt. Wuz dat Gimli I saew waerin a red draess tu da Goeldn Gloeb awaerdz? *weenk! *  
  
Jaded Scorpio: U muest chek fur uepdatez every tiem u eet! Oer bruesh ur teef! Oer goe tu da poettie! Woew! Datz aloet! I wuld like tu ried hoersiz wid u sumdae. *Skweeze! *  
  
Nilmandra: al sez tu tael u dis wulda bean uep suuner eggsept I taek tu loeng wid all dese lub ledderz. I em glaed tu maek u prowd of me. *Keesez *  
  
laure: I em steel a veergeen. It'z bean 4 hoel weakz an noethin haz chaengd, tho I hav haed meeny oeffrz. Deed u git da coempy feexed? * smuuch *  
  
Goddess-Isis-112: Hi! al here-Legolas is still scrambling around on the floor trying to gather up the kisses you dropped for him. He'd be done already except that he keeps stopping to reload his cheeks. He looks like an overgrown chipmunk. Thanks so much for your perseverance and comments. HAE! HAE! Thaenkz frum me tu! * Huegz an keesez!*  
  
Frodo girl: I dunno hoew Frodo weel feal abot me steelin heez gurl. I weel giv u a tikit tho, jest as suun az I git da thaeng reeloaeded. * snueggl*  
  
Anja: al haz nerbz of steal. She kin haendl enithaeng. I meesd u! I em glaed tu noe u ar redy tu protek me. * smuuch*  
  
Holly: Tin tiemz iz guud! Goe agin, okae? An Gimli, weel, I tole heem dat I em da drievr an dat he shuld neber sit en da saeddl, soe he goet whut wuz komin tu heem. * kees!*  
  
Becky: Hae Becky! I em glaed u fienaly desidid tu rite tu me. I neu it wuz u out dere all da tiem! I hav elbin eyez, u noe. MMMMmmmm . . . kandee . . . . *Hueg *  
  
OverCastDay: Yeas Deer deedn't noe abot me. He wuz jest plaeyn a joek. *beeg hueg* I lub dis daense! *steap, steap, steap, steap. . . * Hey! Can I join in?? Okae! * steap, step, steap, step, sheemie, sh . . . Buemp!!! Wait, what's with all that shimmy-shimmy stuff? I never showed you THAT! *greanz! *  
  
Arilyn: Tweestd ez an eggselant naem fur Yeas Deer'z huemr. I addid da buugaluu tu dat daense steap fur da haeppie daense-sea? *steap, buugaluu, steap, buugaluu * Like it? *snueggl *  
  
Rose: *sighs, an huegz u agin *  
  
Endomiel: Dat Yeas Deer deed skeer me perty guud. I em havn a reely guud tiem hear az u kin sea! *cueddlz *  
  
Campy Oh: Oeh! I em soe glaed u cowht uep wid me! Due ur eyez feal bedder yeat? I hav sean dat guy whoe thaenkz he iz me-he'z soerta kute, u noe?? *beeg kees fur u *  
  
Max Jive: Noebuddie eber axed me abot it beafour! Dey jest riet whuteber dey ar dreemin, I gess. I em kwite a stued, doen't u thaenk??? *greanz, weenkz, and huegz u *  
  
JastaElf: Hae Jasta! Hae Ada! * keesez fur bof of u* Jaesta, weel dat eggsplainashun of da sakriefise hav a haendz oen demon-strashun? Az loeng az it eezn't me, dat wuld bea okae. I thaenk I git my Adar'z dreeft. U noe, Araporn alwaez duz waelk beahiend me whin we ar goen uep steapz an inklinz. Sumtiemz he geevz me a leedle puesh oen da baksied, like I wuld reely nead hep or sumptin . . . wate . . . al, deed she sae "huenniebuen of lub"? *faentz*  
  
Java Glxy: Maek dat an aelmost 3000 yeer oeld veergeen. * kees fur u * Whut due u meen da inmaetz deedn't git me? Due dey waent tikitz tu? Bie da Valar!!!  
  
ScarsOnMyHeart: O.O Goellie! I doen't thaenk I hav eber sean eniwon dat eggsietid en my hoel lief! Weel, mebbe Brethil, buet datz anuthr stoeree. Thaenkz fur da kaendee! *kueddlz *  
  
bizzy: Hearz a tikit jest fur u! I hoep u wear noet trien tu brieb me fur da nuembr 1 tikit? U weel hav tu sea PuterPatty abot dat. Irena haz #2, soe goe sea her nekz if PP woen't traed u. al sez oen ur budjit, we weel bea haeppie wid jest a reeview or tuu. *Huegz *  
  
Thalia: Thaenkz fur reeveweeng! I thot I saew u luerkin out dere. I em glaed tu heer u lub me soe muech! *snuegglz *  
  
Estina: * weenkz at u* I em a faebulus Orc fietr, doen't u thaenk?! *flaexzs muesclz * OOOHHH! al, whut wuz dat? That was a bunch of fangurls squealing, baby. Hied me, al! Hied me!  
  
miao-miao: I wuz dere all nite, an I wuz miety huengrie aftur all dat fietin at Helm's Deep. Wurkd uep an aepetite! *Hueg *  
  
Blume: *kees fur u * My Ada iz da moest wundurful adar dat eber libed. He lubz me vary muech! Az fur dat buukbaeg of al'z, it iz vary beeg en da sentr, an I EM an elf. I em 6 feat tael (wael, aelmoest!), buet I em vary flaezable. Sea? *flaexzs * al, derez dat sownd agin! Hied me! Hied me!  
  
Dunrosiel: Siuldad, Dunrosiel! I due noet aelwaez meen tu bea fuennie, sumtiemz it jest wurkz out dat wae. U doen't nead tu wurry, hav u eber sean a faet elf?? *Huegz u *  
  
anna: I gess I em steel *ahem *, whuteber dat ez. I reely thot dose leedle ole laedeez wuld at leest hav loekd da doar or seant sum doegz aftur me. I gess dey weel hav tu wate teel nekz weak an trie agin. *snugglz u *  
  
Lady Peredhel: Dere ez muech moer kompitishun fur elbin maedinz een Meedle- erth. Hav u eber sean an ueglee elf? *sheevrz * Oohhh! My eerz! * Keesez u bak*  
  
aftem: Due u hav a beeg klosit? I hav goettin spoeld bie havin my oewn ruum at al'z howse. Thaenkz fur oeffrin tu protek me. *skweaze fur u *  
  
TreeHugger: I due lub da Krokadial Huentr! I doen't nead noe kroks tho, I hav PP! Rite, PP? Tael Elu I doen't ware jeawlrey, easpacieally doewn dere. I uendrstaend da sakrifiese thaeng noew, buet dat iz a stoeree fur a deefrint dae, u noe? al sez tael u I em saefr hear dan eniwaer oen Modrn- erth, and dat da Valar neu eggsacktlee whur dey wear seandin me, baftuebz and buebblez an all. Whuteber she meanz by dat. Giv won of dese X an O'z tu eberibuddie, okae? XOXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXOXOX  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Oew! Oew! al, my feengrz huert!  
  
I imagine so! That was 55 lub ledderz you wrote for just this chapter!! Next time, do you promise not to wait so long before you start typing up these . . .these . . these. . . "vaelintienz of elbin lub"?  
  
I weel staert ritin jest az suun az de reevew gitz hear, I proemiss! We hav bean uep all niet fur 3 daez!  
  
Maybe we should just tell them we don't need them to review. Then you won't have to work so hard.  
  
NOE! NOE! al, hav u goen nuetz? Whut weel I due widout my lub ledderz??? *soebzz! *  
  
PLEEZE DOEN'T LEESTN TU HER!!! SHE'Z GOEN MAED!!!!  
  
Come on. Let's go stock up on some more sugar. You're plumb empty after all that loving and hugging and kissing you've been doing there.  
  
Doen't furgit da snoeggin, an da maesaeg, I gav IRENA a maesaeg tu. . . . 


	5. The Show Must Go On

A/N: If you haven't been to see Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey's Circus, you haven't truly seen The Greatest Show on Earth. Their performances are outstanding. No, Legolas won't be in the one you get to see, for once is truly enough for me to watch THAT, but I promise you will enjoy it all the same. My disclaimer is that to see marvelous acts like those mentioned here, you will just have to go and see their fantastic show. I make no money or profit from promoting them shamelessly in this chapter.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter 5 The Show Must Go On  
  
The tall clown in the rainbow stripes gives me a wink, followed by a perfect imitation of the Thranduil eyebrow.  
  
Well, he's certainly not missing the show, is he?  
  
With the act completed, off they go in a cloud of fog.  
  
"Well?" says Yes Dear.  
  
"Yeah, what're you gonna do about THIS, Mom?" asks Little Pip.  
  
I contemplate for awhile before concluding, "I'm going to watch the rest of the show," settling down and leaning back in my seat.  
  
"Really?" says Yes Dear, giving me his own version of the Thranduil eyebrow.  
  
Ignoring them both, I return my attention to the three rings. There are a dozen or so Chinese Lions leaping and weaving throughout the arena. Each "lion" is made up of two acrobats with a colorful costume of gold, orange, and fiery red connecting them together. They are fierce looking, and capable of some awesome feats of flexibility and balance. The most impressive thing is when two of the lion pairs climb upon two giant blue balls, rolling them to meet each other, and then another lion pair leaps on top way up high and they all roll around the ring. The act is absolutely fascinating, and is over much sooner than I want it to be.  
  
The next act to come out to the three rings is an equestrian one. All three rings are filled with jet black and snow white horses, dressed in glittering turquoise blue trappings and headpieces with tall plumy feathers on them. Three trainers dressed in white tuxedos with matching turquoise accessories and glittering top hats are present, one in the center of each ring. Two of the trainers have long whips they are using to signal the horses. Occasionally the horses' ears flick backward and they toss their heads, appearing to be a bit irritated with each other.  
  
The third trainer, the one with the fringe of blond hair peeking out from underneath his top hat in the ring directly in front of our seats, has no whip. In fact, he holds nothing at all in his hands. The four white and four black horses under his command are watching him with rapt attention, ears perked forward and eyes glued to him.  
  
I watch mesmerized as the horses weave in and out amongst each other in elaborate patterns, all the while keeping an ear cocked toward the trainer. He, in contrast, stands perfectly still. Without a single visible clue, all of the horses suddenly line themselves up with their front hooves on the foot-high ring railing facing outwards. That is, all but one.  
  
The prettiest snow white mare, the one who has been stepping the highest and perking her ears the most, stands facing her trainer. Almost imperceptibly, he dips his head to her and motions with it toward the other horses. Just as subtly, she shakes her head side to side, "No". Even with the glittering turquoise top hat on I can see him give her the Thranduil eyebrow. She shakes her head again, "No."  
  
He sighs.  
  
She stares, waiting.  
  
He puts his hands together in a prayer of supplication.  
  
She continues gazing at him, then dips her head, nodding toward her feet and looking at the ground in front of her.  
  
His eyes widen as if he can't believe what she is asking of him.  
  
She bats her long eyelashes at him.  
  
He rolls his eyes heavenward, throws up his hands and shrugs his shoulders. The shoulders then fall in a slump. He drops to one knee in front of her. If she were two-legged, I would swear he was asking for her hoof in marriage.  
  
After a very pregnant pause, I swear she smiles and winks at him. Then she turns and joins the other horses at the ring railing.  
  
As he rises to his feet again, the horses break rank and begin processing around the ring once more, stopping every four hoofbeats to spin around in a circle. As the performance comes to an end, one by one the horses each circle around and head out of the ring. The last to leave is the beautiful white mare. She stops center-ring and faces him once again.  
  
He smiles encouragingly at her, his big blue eyes asking nicely for her cooperation.  
  
She holds her ground.  
  
The blue eyes change, the facial expression becomes more of a plea.  
  
She shakes her head, "No, I'm having WAY too much fun with this," she seems to say.  
  
The other two rings are now empty. The arena is darkening; the next act is waiting. The spotlight operator seizes this opportunity and focuses the sole remaining light on the relationship in the only occupied ring. The two of them are bathed in the light like lovers in the moon's glow.  
  
She waits.  
  
He watches.  
  
She tosses her pretty head, her mane bouncing, making a 'come-hither' motion to him with her nose.  
  
He raises his right hand, pointing to himself, "Me?"  
  
"Yes," she nods, batting her eyelashes faster. She side-steps slightly, sashaying her hips and swishing her tail.  
  
Obediently, he steps forward until they are a mere foot apart.  
  
She shakes her head, "No."  
  
"What?" he mouths, hands spread wide and shoulders shrugging.  
  
Raising her head, she gently takes the brim of his glittering turquoise top hat in her teeth, lifting it from his head and allowing his long blond hair to fall to his shoulders. She lowers the hat and taps it against his left hand, indicating that he should take it from her.  
  
He blushes, bowing his head and whispering, "Sorry, I forgot."  
  
She smiles, and then takes one step forward to bump her forehead against his. He brings his arms up, locking them around her neck in a tender embrace, and then, eyes closed, he lowers his lips to kiss her ever so gently and tenderly between her big brown eyes.  
  
She shudders from nose to tail.  
  
He lifts his head and laughs aloud, delighting in her response.  
  
She lowers herself with her right foreleg daintily outstretched and her left foreleg bent in the prettiest princess curtsey I have ever seen, paying homage to the love of her life. Rising, she winks at him before spinning her hindquarters around and giving him another close up look at her tail-swishing maneuver. He responds by giving her a little smack on the hindquarters with the top hat, and then joins her in running from the ring into the waiting darkness.  
  
The stagehands have been working quickly to assemble a large wire mesh ball, close to twelve feet in diameter, which they push into the center ring. A group of motorcyclists are zipping around the perimeter of the arena, and soon they line up facing the gigantic wire cage. A door opens out from its side, creating a ramp, and three of the motorcyclists file in. Once the door is closed, they begin to ride inside the ball, around and around and even upside down across the top. They are so close together it's a wonder they don't knock helmets with each other as one of them takes a turn to break out of line and circle overhead.  
  
They slow to a crawl and come to rest together at the bottom of the ball. Amid thunderous applause, the door opens, but rather than change riders, a fourth motorcyclist enters the ball. Soon four of them are spinning madly inside the metal wire ball. Once again they crawl to a stop and huddle together at the bottom of the ball. The door opens again, and one cyclist exits. Two more enter, and in an insane display of ability, there are now five cyclists madly whirling inside the giant ball. The tires of the bikes are mere centimeters from each other, and there doesn't seem to be a square inch of interior space of the mesh that hasn't been covered. If one of them misses by a fraction of an inch, there will be a disaster.  
  
The audience, though appreciative, seems disappointed there was no wreck when they come to a stop again. That is, until the curtain at the entrance of the arena opens and yet another motorcyclist comes riding out.  
  
"You don't think. . . ," Little Pip starts to say.  
  
"No way!" exclaims Yes Dear. "He hasn't even tried to ride Pip's regular bike at home yet!"  
  
The cyclist roars up to the wire cage ball and rolls up the ramp, squeezing in amidst the other five riders. They rev the engines, moving slightly forward and back until each nods his readiness to the others.  
  
"This is totally insane," mutters Yes Dear.  
  
"Dad, you think that might be. . . ," the rest of Little Pip's sentence is drowned out by the ear splitting rumble of six motorcycles traveling at high speed, all within a twelve-foot diameter metal wire-mesh ball.  
  
I am shell shocked and totally speechless. One small slip up and total disaster is at hand, right in front of my eyes. Visions of glass doors and Sea Pee Ar, cockroach attacks, and dodging cars while running after the ice cream truck flash before my eyes. How much luck can the life of one immortal hold?  
  
Unable to stand it anymore, I bury my head in my hands, fearing to watch any further lest my heart stop beating in my chest.  
  
When the blast of engine sounds fades to a mild drone, I chance a peek through my fingers to see all six of the cyclists lined up before the cheering audience. I am no longer certain which one is the tallest and thinnest, for in my panic I have taken my eyes off the last one to enter, and now their body sizes are far too similar for me to distinguish one from the other. I watch, holding my breath, as the six of them begin to take off their helmets and wave to the crowd. One, two, three, four with short black hair and Hispanic features. Two to go. . . .  
  
Neither of them is Legolas.  
  
My heart has had all it can take. I just wish he'd come safely back to his seat now. No such luck, for as the lights dim and the cyclists leave, the tiger act takes over.  
  
Snarling teeth, slashing claws, and fiery hoops later, there is still no further sign of the Prance. I cannot tell you how relieved I am.  
  
The stage hands have covered the ring in front of us with some type of blue plastic matting, and inside the ring now sits a picnic table and a longer table with what looks like a double-bowled kitchen sink. Both of the bowls are filled to the rim with some type of white liquid substance that looks like marshmallow crème. There is also a bright yellow fifty-five gallon trash container full of the same stuff sitting just inside the ring, and a couple of one-gallon metal buckets sitting beside it. I suppose the little buckets are for refilling the sink bowls with whatever is contained in the industrial sized bucket.  
  
Once again, they send in the clowns.  
  
Dressed alike in black and white striped referee shirts and black pants with whistles around their necks, four of them come running and bouncing into the ring, blowing their whistles and generally making as much noise and havoc as possible. While they run around acting more like cheerleaders than referees, the oversized lady clown once again makes her appearance. This time she is dressed to play the part of the Headmistress of the Clown Referee Training School. Her referee dress is covered with very wide stripes to match her extra size, and her bright red wig is covered with a matching baseball cap. Emblazoned across the back where the player's name goes is the title "The Training Instructor" and around her neck is the biggest whistle I think I have ever seen. When she blows it, it dominates the arena, making the other whistles look like the plastic child's toys that they are.  
  
"Time for lunch!" the narrator announces in perfect lip synch with The Training Instructor.  
  
The four students crowd and rush each other at the picnic table, fighting over the seats and pulling each other's hair. When she blows the whistle a second time, they sit like little angels at the table, all proper manners and folded hands in laps.  
  
The Training Instructor turns her back and goes to the kitchen sink table to pick up a stack of lunch trays. As she turns away, the chaos at the table begins anew.  
  
She stops.  
  
They stop, frozen in place.  
  
She continues, and they take turns pushing and shoving and dashing around until none of them is sitting in the same place that they were before. When she turns around, lunch trays in hand, there they sit, hands folded in laps, angelic smiles in place.  
  
She gives each of them a lunch tray, which actually looks more like an oblong sheet cake pan about 3 inches deep. Per her excellent instructions, they proceed to line up and process over to the kitchen sink area. Every time she looks away, no matter where she looks, one of them takes some advantage of the other, pushing or shoving, tapping on shoulders, or something. Legolas is the second one in line, and he takes a mighty jerk to one of his long pigtails from one of them, hard enough to pull him out of line, but he seems unfazed.  
  
The Training Instructor takes a large soup ladle from a drawer in the table with the kitchen sink and proceeds to ladle the white liquid into each of the lunch trays. She motions with the ladle for each of the students to return to their places at the picnic table as she fills the trays up.  
  
I know what you're thinking. Fat chance of that going along smoothly, right?  
  
Right.  
  
The first student makes it safely to the picnic table, but Legolas gets tripped by the third and before long there is total melee going on. His lunch tray flips into the air and the contents land sloppily right in the lap of the first clown. The third clown finds this funny, so Legolas reaches out and tips that tray up to splash him in the face. The fourth clown is engaging The Training Instructor in a heated argument about how much of the liquid stuff is too much to put into his tray, and is effectively buying time for the first clown to grab Legolas by the collar and toss him sliding down the length of the picnic table through the slippery mess they have made. He rolls off the end of the table and bounds back into the fray. That is about the time the audience realizes that the white liquid is really soap bubbles.  
  
By this time, there enough liquid in the ring and bubbles in the air to send everyone sprawling. The Training Instructor is trying to gain the upper hand by blowing the huge whistle around her neck, but no such luck. Before long, the kitchen sink liquid is gone, and the four students have each grabbed a metal bucket and are having the time of their lives scooping soap bubbles out of the 55 gallon container and soaking each other good.  
  
With one last ear-splitting blow on the giant whistle, suddenly everyone freezes. They stand, dripping and staring at each other. Without warning, two of the students grab The Training Instructor and toss her upside down into the liquid that is left in the industrial sized container, revealing her bright red hot pants hidden underneath her referee dress. The third clown joins Legolas in snatching up one of the metal buckets sitting on the side of the ring, and both of them run headlong at the audience. Legolas heads straight for me, and I can see the mischievous devilment in his merry elven eyes as he cocks the bucket back, aiming straight at my head.  
  
"NOOOOO!!!" I hear myself scream as he tosses the contents of the bucket at me.  
  
A cloud of white paper confetti rains down on me. Legolas laughs gleefully, then leans over to give me a soggy hug.  
  
"Dere'z a paertie fur all da kloewnz aftur da shoew!" he says in my ear. "Wate hear an I weel com git u, okae?"  
  
Before I can ask how he got invited in the first place, he is gone.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A/N: Now, don't all of you want to come live at my house??  
  
Thanks go to PuterPatty, Grammar Laedee, and TreeHugger for their help with this one. You guys rock!  
  
*al runs through the crowd, handing out paper towels and drool cups* Ok, let the show really begin!  
  
INTRODUCING, FOR YOUR PLEASURE:  
  
LUB LEDDERS FRUM LEGOLAS  
  
Hae eberybuddie! Skuze me a sekont . . . * pueshz refeel roell oentu tikit dispaensur* I dunno hoew meeny tiemz I hav feeled dis thaeng dis weak! PuterPatty, u bedder giv sum of dose tikits bak! Hearz a tikit fur eech of u neu faengurlz. . . * haendz ouet tikitz* *smakz PP'z ouetstraetchd haend AGIN! * Noew, on wid da shoew!  
  
Michelle: * haendz u sum moer of my choklit* U doen't luuk week, mel nin. *keesez u * Hoew abot noew?  
  
Newmoon: Ar dose ur baybee Balrog breechiz? I lub dem! We ar duein Annie dis suemmr tu! * cueddlz*  
  
Vladimirs Angel: * huegz* Hae! Dat'z my koemb! Giv dat bak!  
  
Angaloth: I lub u tu! U doen't hav tu bea soerrie, u ar hear noew and datz whut kowntz. *skweeze *  
  
Magical Rachel: * ketchez keesiz* Buet I DUE nead dese keesiz, melethrin! I deed like bean a kloewn fur a dae, buet it'z a worrierz lief fur me. * Smuuch!*  
  
The Whisperer: * eyez glaezin ovr* MMMmmmmm . . .choklit. Deed u noe dis slave taestz jest like choklit tu? That's "salve" Legolas. Datz noet hoew TreeHugger spaellz it. *weenkz an huegz u *  
  
Lina Skye: Hae thaer! *waevz * I deed noet noe dat beain a veergeen meent dat I wuz broek? * geeglez an flaexz fur u*  
  
Yuffie-Girl: Kloewnz ar fuen! Dey'r jest peepl wid maekup oen, soert of like akturz reely. *huegglz u *  
  
Arilyn: I em soe glaed u seant a lub ledder tu me. I tuuk ur adviese an gaev al sum of my choklitz. Dat deed hep. *huegz an keesiz *  
  
Sperry Dee: Oeh, Boy! Charlie da Naezbuennie culd bea en da seerkus wid me! *snoegz u *  
  
Stimpy aka Amber: Noe der noet. Nuf sed. * beeg huegz u!*  
  
Scars On A Scribbler's Heart: It tuuk me awile tu git da kaefeen ouetda my syestim frum dat Staerbuekz choklit frapacheeno, buet it shur wuz guud! Hannon le! * smuuch!*  
  
IRENA: BUET I LIKE DA KLOEWN STUEF!! I THOT U LIKD FUR ME TU WARE TITEZ? Dey wuld keap me frum gittin da ruegbuern, wuldn't dey?? U deedn't agrie tu shaer me wid PP soe u culd git a tuern dat muech faestr, deed u? MMMMmmmmm. . . due dat sum moer. . . dat fealz guud. . . * straetchez katlike an den snuegglz u uep tite*  
  
miao-miao: Mae Govannen! Vys ume quel! Deed u meen "tella" tho? al theenkz dat ez fuenny. Amin n'rangwa omenta. Namarie! * cueddlez*  
  
gershwin: I em glaed tu heer u ar bedder. U reely met da tiegr traener? WOEW! *squeesh tu u tu! *  
  
JastaElf: * draegz sef entu chaer AGIN!* Grate Valar, Jasta, u hav goet tu stoep duein dat tu me! Yaes, steem frum Ada'z eerz uzuelly meenz he weel bea doneen Celeb Baud. Sumbuddie ez en trubel den (uzeuelly urz trewlee). I dunno abot Theoden, buet Eomer wuz shur luukin at me fuennie whin we wear en Rohan. Hearz a * smuuch* fur u, Jasta, and a *hueg! * fur Ada!  
  
leail: *SNOEG! * LEAIL!! *blueshz * I deedn't noew I wuz da Gratest Shoew oen Erth! Da beeg red shoez deed noet fit me, soe I tuuk anuthr pare dat deed. Hannon le fur all u due fur me! *snoegz u agin fur guud luk! *  
  
Laura: I thaenk al iz deevaelopin an eemunitee tu haert attakz. Bean a kloewn iz fuen! *Keesiz u *  
  
Lady Silence: Imp 13 deedn't stae loeng. Seand Sigmund nekz tiem, okae? He souwndz like a paertie anamel! Deed u noe dat if u tern ur Twiezzlr an luuk doewn da end it luukz like it haz sum X an O's en it? Hearz sum xtrae fur u * xoxoxoxoxoxoxox*  
  
Lily Frost: I hav neber haed red pealing toez beafour. Gimli uzed tu git a raesh arond heez eyez tho. If I deedn't hav lub ledderz, I wuld hav tu reed da pone buuk I gess! Dat wuld noet bea neer az muech fuen. *elbin lub fur u! *  
  
Dunrosiel: Sumtiemz I weesh TreeHugger deedn't tael eberythaeng she noez! She culd furgit abot da draess and da piepwead enitiem. * beeg hueg fur u*  
  
anna: Bean a kloewn iz loetz of wurk, buet loetz of fuen tu! *skweeazes u tite! *  
  
Digital Jessie: Kloewnin around iz Guud! Ar u tierd of reedin yaet? al an I hav a loet moer stoerriez tu tael! I em glaed u ar hear noew! * nise loeng kees fur u az a reawaerd*  
  
Max Jive: Trubel? I wuz noet en trubel. I deed git sum soaep en alz hare, tho . . . *weenkz an huegz u *  
  
Lady Peredhel: Elvis chaerm *weenkz * Bea karefull faelling oen da grownd dat wae! Deed u lern dat en kloewn skool? Dat guy whoe thaenkz he iz me wuz waerin jeenz oen da TV komershul. Deed u sea heem? * gloempz u*  
  
Sake: I deed mees u! Kloewnz ar noet soe skeerie at all! * snuegglz*  
  
Legolana Greenleaf: Hannon le fur dose choklitz! I lub da hoers shaepd wonz baest. Speidrz? En ur bed? *shueddrz * I theenk I nead a hug! *huegz u *  
  
TreeHugger: U souwnd like dat raebbit en Alise en Wundurlaend. al deed noet sae I haed to stae dere. She jest sed she wuld bea rite bak. I wuz reely guud at dat kloewn thaeng, doen't u thaenk?? * cueddlz an snuegglz wid u wile Mr. Ron ez noet luukin*  
  
borednhyper: Leedle Peep uzed tu hav won of dose leesh thaengz fur her fraend Shadow, buet it iz peenk! Due u thaenk I wuld luuk guud wid a peenk leesh oen? I kin ax if I culd boerroe it. * huegz an keesiz u *  
  
Mickie: al sez she saew dat X-filez an it WUZ skeerie! I hoep u ar fealin bedder noew. I seeng teanor moest of da tiem, unlaess we ar shoert sum soapraenoz. * gloempz u! *  
  
Chelsey: I em an elf worrier, u noe! I em vary braev! *bloewz u a keez *  
  
bizzy: Me? Git en trubel? Tea hea!! * smuuch!*  
  
Dragon-of-the-north: Luuk, al, luuk! I goet a neu faen! Rite dere, luuk! *waevz * Hae! Kin I caell u Dragon? * huegz u fur wurkin soe haerd! *  
  
Katani Petitedra: al sez dat she theenkz sumtiemz da kloewnz hav aelredy taekn ober, buet dey furgoet dere maekup. * cueddlz u*  
  
Goddess-Isis-112: due u lub akting? I due! Mebbe I weel goe tu Holliewuud sumdae. I culd bea a pierate, oer a soeldjur, oer eben a meelkmaen/bokzer! Yaeh! *Keesez u fur dat guud ideea! *  
  
Seaweed: Whie iz Gimli ouet kold oen da grownd? U deedn't ruin heez red draess en da lawndrie, deed u? I hoep noet, buet it wuz a leedle tite arond da chaest . . . . * sweat keesiz u oen da cheak, soe Gimli weel noet hit me wid dat akz. *  
  
Aftem: Hoew beeg iz ur ruum? Mine haz goet ruum fur a rokin hoers en it beeg enuf fur me to ried! * flaexez my bisepz fur u*  
  
ithinkineedanewname: Dose kloewnz ar loetz of fuen! I deed git guusepeemplz at da end whin all da peepl klaeppd dere haendz! *beeg hueg fur u *  
  
PuterPatty: U noe, whin dis skreen saevr coemz oen, I kin sea misef! *gitz ouet koemb, sleekz hare bak * Goetta luuk guud fur my gurlz! Dere, datz bedder. I doent nead a whip, baybee, I kin taelk dose gurlz entu anithaeng I waent. . . BWAHHAHHAAHAA!! Shuet uep, al! . . . Deed u win enithaeng at da loetterie? U shur haed a loet of tikitz. Danse wid me, meleth. . . * staendz bak tu bak an duz da sheemie, sheemie, den speenz u around an snoegz u saensleass agin*  
  
Dagmar of Avalon: Hae! I em fien, hoew abot u? Ar u ober bean hiepr yaet? * huegz*  
  
Grammar Laedee: Dat ez da haet frum da koettin kaendie dat Leedle Peep wuz waerin at da seerkus. It sez "Da Gratest Shoew oen Erth" buet it luukz like it sez MOM en da pikshur. Wate teel u sea my nekz haet! *Huegs an keesiz! *  
  
Fades into the west: WOEW! U lib en LA? Bie Holliewuud? Ar u an aktur? Dat guy whoe thaenkz he iz me livz der sumtiemz. * skweazez u *  
  
Thuriniel: al neber remimberz tu braeng da kamera. She neadz tu aed it tu da poket chaek rooteen. * kueddlez u*  
  
The Two Princesses: al haz 12 tikitz frum TTT noew. Leedle Peep'z skool duz noet alloew thim tu breeng dere mobeelz. Dey muest leev dem at hoem. Hearz sum moer abot da seerkus fur u-an dere iz a leedle moer tu com! * XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO! *  
  
Hiro-tyre: U shuld goe won tiem if u git da chaence. It wuz furn, buet I thaenk al neadz me hear tu taek kaer of her moer. Wate teel u sea whut aelse haz haeppind! * snoeg*  
  
Andy'sPrincess: Ar u bedder yaet? Hear iz sum of dat Elvis meadasin *snuegglz an kueddlz *  
  
Holly: I lub dese beedz, buet whut ez dis deavilree? * hoeldz uep leedle blak peese of cloeth* Iz dis fur floessin my teath? al sez YD iz noet alloewd tu smuuch u bak, buet he deed like da ideea. *beeg kees fur u! *  
  
JaguarKitty2006: *chewz meentz * Aktin iz noet soe haerd if u pertind tu toetully bea ur karaktur. U jest furgit dat peepl ar wachin an goe at it! * gloempz*  
  
Anon: Hae, al! Luuk! Dere'z anuthur neu faengurl dere-rite dere, sea? *waevz * Glaed u ar hear! Hoew abot a kees tu git staerted? *keesez u swaetlee *  
  
Blume: I thot kloewnz wear skeerie, buet dey ar a loet of fuen! I gess u have tu waelk a miel en sumwon ealsez shoez tu sea whare dey ar komin frum. * huegglz u*  
  
Campy Oh: Deed u like dis chaeptr? *throez elbin lub tu u * I haed a guud Vaelentimz Dae, dat iz, AFTUR al hepd me rap her praesent bak up. --Did it have your name on the tag? -Noe, buet it DEED fiet me!-Doesn't matter. Besides, pink is sooooo NOT your color.-Buet, al, I jest straetchd it a leedle, soe noew it weel fiet bedder.-Thanks A LOT, elfboy. It was supposed to be tight!  
  
laure: I wuz een disguyz. Dat wae noe won wuld noe it wuz me en da kloewn kostuem! Wuzn't dat cleaver? * smuuch*  
  
Becky Greenleaf: Soe u caem ouet of da kloesit tu, deed u? LOL! I reemembir u! *deapz u an givz u a beeg kees * Reemembir me??? *weenkz *  
  
Psychoman 364: Dose faengurlz lub me, doen't dey??!! *weenkz *  
  
Nilmandra: Iz dis faest enuf? I wuz watein oen u tu reeveew! Thaenkz fur da envitashun tu veesit u. Deed PP eber giev u a tikit? Hearz a beeg kees fur u * deeeeap an looooeennnggg smuuuuch *  
  
Rebecca: Wekkom! I wuz jest abot tu tael al dat I wuz doen wid my lub ledderz whin she sed, "Legolas! U hav anuthr neu faengurl todae!" I wuz soe eggsited I aelmoest haed an aksident! U muest bea tierd aftur all dat reedin. I em glaed u joend us! * givz u a wekkom hueg an kees * ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
What will Legolas do next? Will Little Pip eat all the cotton candy all by herself? How much will this end up costing Yes Dear this time? Will al ever get the soap bubbles out of her hair? Will PuterPatty give up all the tickets she took? Will TreeHugger ever figure out what happened to the slave with the salve? What will Irena do without her massage this time? Will Ada ever find where Legolas hid Celeb Baud? Stay tuned for the next amazing episode of "Lego's Tales"! 


	6. A Circus Life for Me

Author's notes: New picture on the bio page! An 'invitation', so to speak, for you all. See the balloon for details. Sorry for the delay in finishing this time. The explanation does exist, but that would spoil the next chapter for you! Thanks for your patience, and now. . . on with the show!  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter 6 A Circus Life For Me  
  
While the soap bubble mess is being cleaned up, the stagehands are at it again, moving to set up a head-high inflatable mat on the far right-hand side of the arena. They also erect a huge net there from floor to ceiling. On the left-hand side, more stagehands are moving in the dark to pull a huge cannon into place. Emblazoned on the side of the cannon are the words, "The Fiery Cannonball".  
  
There's no way he can get cleaned up from soaking in all that soap and get back out here in time to be the star of this act, I think to myself. I glance at my watch. Nah, no way.  
  
The narrator begins to tell the crowd that never before in the history of circuses around the world has there ever been anyone as daring as "The Fiery Cannonball." He tells us of the dangers of the stunt, about how children should be sure not to try anything like this at home, then points out the myriad of safety personnel now standing about all over the arena, each dressed in a nonflammable suit and carrying the biggest fire extinguisher I have ever seen.  
  
I glance at my watch. Only two minutes have passed. Nope, not enough time to make it.  
  
The orchestra begins to increase the volume and the speed of the ominous music they are playing. The firefighters in their silver suits now pull hoods over their heads as they continue to dance about showing off their shiny silver canisters. I am reminded of the Imperial storm troopers from Star Wars, though these suits are much more bulky than those were.  
  
Feeling a bit nervous, I take another peek at my watch. Almost five minutes have passed from the time the clowns ran out of the spotlight until now. Still not enough time to wash away all that soap and get dried off and change clothes and. . . . Nope, just no way.  
  
Is there?   
  
The narrator forges ahead, hyping up the crowd; the orchestra builds up the volume of the perilous sounding music they are playing. A clown dressed as a firefighter and carrying a very large glittering sparkler comes running out from backstage, heading around the arena in a circle before darting to the rear of the cannon and touching the fuse to the flame. As we reach this peak of frenzy, my mother's instincts are too much for me.  
  
"NOOOOOOOoooooo!! LEGOLAS!!!!!" I scream, jumping out of my seat as a humongous resonating BOOM and a flash of light erupts from the cannon, followed by an enormous belch of thick white smoke. Through the cloud comes a flaming projectile, human-shaped and blazing with fire. It soars across the arena, leaving a trail of sparks in its wake, and lands in the inflated black mat on the far right-hand side. The Imperial Storm Trooper Fire Brigade rushes to the mat, spraying powdery fire retardant everywhere.  
  
The body in the black suit is no longer ablaze. As I stand, stricken with fear, mouth agape and clinging so hard to poor Yes Dear's arm that he will have bruises tomorrow, the figure rises from the mat, climbing down from the 6 foot high bed which has saved him, and moves to the center ring where he takes off the fireproof mask he wears.  
  
It's not Legolas.  
  
As I collapse into my seat, Yes Dear removes my fingers from where they are embedded in his flesh and points to the ceiling on the left, saying, "You aren't going to like what's fixing to happen right over there."  
  
I don't even dare to look. My heart is still pounding in my chest from the last act. I close my eyes and try to distract myself, force myself to concentrate on singing "The Song That Never Ends" or something, ANYTHING inside my head to keep me from looking where he is still pointing. It is Little Pip who breaks me from my reverie with a question that the mind of any ten-year-old aspiring princess needs to know.  
  
"Momma, when a guy like Legolas wears things on his legs that fit THAT close, are they called tights or pantyhose?"  
  
Will not look, will NOT look, will NOT LOOK, WILL NOT LOOK!!!   
  
I look.  
  
Legolas is perched on the edge of a tiny platform a good thirty feet up in the air. There is a matching platform on the other side of the center ring, and a tightrope is all that connects the two together. A very thin tightrope, in my honest opinion.  
  
On the other platform there is another performer who is holding a long pole extended horizontal to the ground. He begins to walk forward onto the tightrope, and does some fancy footwork while Legolas stays on his two-by- two-foot piece of airy property and watches him.  
  
Oh, you wanted to know what he was wearing, didn't you??  
  
His absolute favorite color. Green. It's the green of the newly unfurled leaves of spring, with dark green, white, and silver sequins sewn in patterns resembling the leaves of the trees themselves twining around his long well-muscled trunk and legs. His strong elven arms are bare, his glowing shoulders exposed in the tight tank-style shirt he wears. His flowing blond locks are clean and dry, not a sign that just a few minutes ago he was soaked in soap to the bone and covered with white face paint.  
  
I watch him, mesmerized, as he takes his first baby step out onto the rope. No, Legolas! my mind tries in vain to telecommunicate to him. You forgot your pole! You don't have a pole! Go back! Go back!   
  
Of course, when has he ever listened to me?  
  
He tiptoes gracefully out to the guy with the pole, carrying a long, thick white rope in his right hand. When he gets to the center where they meet, Legolas reaches out, nimbly takes the pole from the other guy, and hands him the rope. As Legolas backs up to his own platform again, I breathe a sigh of relief.  
  
The man on the tightrope begins to jump. One, two, three, jumps in place. While the audience watches with rapt attention, he jumps forward along the tightrope to join Legolas on his platform. Legolas turns to him and bows, then the two raise their arms into the air. The audience applauds.  
  
Now the man reaches underneath the dais they stand on and pulls up a bicycle that has been hanging there by a hook from the bottom. It has metal rims without rubber tires, so that it will fit onto the wire. He carefully places the rims onto the wire, then motions to Legolas with his free hand, inviting him to climb on and go for a ride.  
  
My heart all but stops. Legolas has never even tried to ride Little Pip's bicycle at home. Not even once. And I'll be a monkey's uncle if they have any bicycles that he's tried in Middle-earth.  
  
I am very pleased to see the fine elven locks shake side to side in refusal. Legolas instead picks up the pole.  
  
No, NO! I think. Don't follow him out there with the pole! It's too bouncy, you'll fall!  
  
But Legolas is not about to be deterred. As his partner climbs aboard the bicycle, Legolas steps onto the wire with him. However, he soon hands the pole to the man on the bicycle and steps back on the platform. Good elfboy! I think to myself.  
  
The man rides to the middle, balances precariously, rides backward a bit, then forward a bit, then backward again, then finally moves forward to his own platform, while Legolas leads the crowd in applauding madly.  
  
After the man leans the pole against the railing surrounding the platform, he puts the bicycle away on a second hidden hook. Moving to the edge, he makes a motion like he is jumping rope again. He looks at Legolas and points to the rope that is hanging over the edge of the railing beside him. Legolas picks up the rope and reaches out with it over the precipice between them, offering it. The man shakes his head side to side, saying that is not what he wants. Instead, he motions with his arm for Legolas to come across the tightrope to him.  
  
Just say no! I transmit to him in thought. You can just say No!   
  
Legolas surveys the tightrope, cocking his head from side to side. He peers over the edge of the platform at the ground below. He makes eye contact again with his partner, who beckons to him to come over and play. Shrugging his shoulders, he takes a tentative step out on the rope. The orchestra begins playing a drumroll.  
  
"NO, LEGOLAS!" I shriek, leaping out of my chair thirty feet below him.  
  
That's all it takes. With a wicked grin, he looks straight down at me, then nimbly leaps onto the tightrope and dances out to the center. He jumps the rope a few times, does some fancy one-footed things, then waltzes over and hands the rope to his partner on the platform.  
  
The other man takes the rope and jumps his way to the center of the tightrope. Legolas joins him, and they jump together. Legolas backs out, and then takes a flying leap through the rope as it swings through the air above the man's head, catching himself with his hands as he falls back with gravity to the tightrope and doing a nice little half-round gymnastics move to come back to standing. The audience is going wild, on their feet cheering and clapping. Encouraged by the crowd's enthusiasm, Legolas completes the maneuver again-BACKWARDS.  
  
They both move to the far platform, waving and smiling gleefully to the spectators below them.  
  
Well, what did you expect? He's an elf!  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Soon the show is ending, the grand finale parade has come and gone. The crowd is growing thinner, heading home to their ordinary lives. We wait as instructed at our seats ringside, and soon Legolas shows up, wearing the same blue jeans but now sporting a bright purple T-shirt with a cartoon caricature of the beautiful white mare from the equestrian act.  
  
"Due u like it?" he asks, turning around and posing like a runway model. It's awfully small on him, and he keeps reaching to the hem to pull it down over his exposed bellybutton. I reach up to the tag in the back, peeking at the size. Yep, that explains it. Child's Large.  
  
"I love it, nin mel," I say, laughing. "Isn't it a little on the small side though?"  
  
"Dis iz da beegist siez dey haed," he proclaims, blushing. "Coem oen. It'z tiem fur da cloewn partee!"  
  
We follow him backstage, where a rather subdued clown party is taking place. Most of the performers have removed their costumes and makeup already. The elephants are standing in huge baby pools, holding water hoses and spraying themselves. Occasionally one of the trainers encourages one of them to spray the folks standing around watching.  
  
The horses are also getting their rubdowns and the handlers are beginning to fork out the hay for the evening meal. Legolas goes to the beautiful white mare he courted in the ring, stroking her neck and greeting her as an old friend.  
  
"Dis iz Laedee Nimrodel," he says, introducing us. "Her maestr iz vary foend of dose buukz dat ar rittin abot me. He naemd her foer da soeng I seeng az we reech Lothlorien." He pauses, smiling at her as he rubs her neck. "I hav groen kwite foend of her endeed."  
  
She snuffles against his chest, then turns to finish her oats in the bucket hanging on the wall of her portable stall. Giving her a pat, he escorts us out to meet the rest of the performers.  
  
After visiting and eating refreshments, meeting many of the stars and stagehands, being the hapless victims of a few water squirting flowers and one fake pie to the face that Legolas dodges, we say our good-byes and leave the circus family to rest and recuperate for the next show.  
  
"Legolas," I inquire as we walk the long way back to the car, "you never did tell me how you got invited to be in the circus."  
  
"Oeh. . . ," he sighs. "It'z reely kwite seemple. Eavry shoew dey pik da pearson siettin en da chaer dat I wuz siettin en tu be en da shoew. If da pearson sez yaes, den whin u goe bakstaege dey fiend ouet whut u kin due and giev u a seerkus joeb."  
  
Well, that sure sums it up. Simple as can be.  
  
"Jest theenk, al," he says, sighing and settling back in the backseat with his eyes closed. "U mite hav bean en da seerkus if u haed sweetchd seetz wid me."  
  
Oh yeah, baby, (c al) I think to myself. And I know just the perfect job for me.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Big hugs to PuterPatty and to Grammar Laedee for checking the spelling and commas for us again. Grammar Laedee actually found an apostrophe and a stray 'e' in there after PP's fine toothed comb went through. PP's resume now also includes approver of costumes. The green tightrope attire is dedicated solely to her. Without PP, there would be no question if they were tights or pantyhose. None at all.  
  
Lub Ledderz Frum Legolas  
  
Nilmandra: Ar u kaellin me Maerty Stew? Yaes, da #7 tikit meenz I weel bea comin tu sea u sumtiem. . .dat ez, if dere iz enithaeng leaft of me whin #1 an #2 git dun. Hearz a leedle sumpthan raetid PG-13 fur u * rapz aermz arond u an keesiz u sweatlee*  
  
PuterPatty: Heah, Laedee Nimrodel iz a LOET like u, PP! Elves due maek guud kloewnz, wid all owr misscheeveeousniss. Tho I kinnot sea Ada or Haldir en fase paynt. Da twinz an Elrond wuld due it tho. . . .Hoew bot dis? *sloe daenses wid u an eandz wid a seaxee deap kees *  
  
Lady Silence: * hugz u bak* Thaenkz fur seandin Sigmund. He shoewd me hoew tu wurk da Flik an Lik Poepz. He ez oen hiz wae bak hoem noew.  
  
ScarsOnAScribbler'sHeart: al wuz glaed dat dere wuz noe soep en dat bukit tuu! Deed u git da reasapee fur dat kaek? It wuz deelishus! *smuuch *  
  
miao-miao: Nawty? Naeh, I kin bea a loet nawtier dan dat! * weenkz*  
  
Fadesintothewest: Deed dis chaeptr aenser all ur kwestshunz? al sez dat Jocelyn's storee iz vary guud. She iz glaed u red it * snuegglz*  
  
Dragon-of-the-north: I em glaed u liked dis enuf tu reed it twiece. Proemis u'll reed it threa tiemz? Proemis? * seandz elbin lub tu u*  
  
TreeHugger: I haed tu chaeng my klothz sumtiem, soe I deed noet git tu due eberythaeng, tho I tried. I theenk u hav al kunfuzed wid Boromir wid da soep buebblz *humz "Spleesh-Splaesh" * Celeb Baud? Whoe sed enithaeng abot Celeb Baud? *huegz an keesiz tu u! *  
  
Lina Skye: * weenkz* Hoew abot anuthr rownd, baybee? *tuerns my bak an shoewz oeff traepz an shoeldrz * Iz dat guud?  
  
OverCast Day: al sez tu tael u I em a haendful. . .Hae! I liked whin u sed I wuz adoerabel. * blueshz an bloez u a kees*  
  
Michelle: Bea karfurl dere! * tiepz u bak uep* U okae? *huegz u *  
  
VladmirsAngel: Haehaehae! U suerpriezd me wid dat hueg an kees. Deed u sea da luuk oen my fase? Thaenkz fur reetuernin my koemb. An da choklit raesenz wur deelishus!! *skweezez u *  
  
Newmoon: I theenk I weel bea a liting gaeffr dis suemmr. Da dierektur an da liting deesignr nead sumwon tu cliemb da laeddr whoe noewz whut dey ar duein. * huegz!*  
  
Magical Rachel: * weenkz* * cofffaengurlcoff* Melethrin iz a tearm of aefekshun. . .like kaellin sumwon "my lub" * skweeze*  
  
Anon: Wekkom tu da faengurl klueb! Da paepur kunfeddie coemz oet if u shaek ur haed or uze da koemb dat al haz en her pokit. Kloewnz hav beeg haredryrz fur da soep buebblz an wader. * snuegglz*  
  
anna: Da Thranduil eyebroew luukz like dis * duz da eyebroew thaeng* Sea? -She can't see that, Legolas, it's just words on the compy screen, you'll have to tell her-oeh. . . U noe dat luuk dat ur Mom givz whin she doen't beeleeve a wurd u ar saeyn? Whin won eyebroew raeziz uep buet da uthr won doesn't? Dat'z it. *weenkz *  
  
amber725akaStimpy: U ar gittin tu hav moer naemz dan Araporn, u noe. *weenkz *  
  
leail: LEAIL! LEAIL! I lub hoew dat sowndz. LEAIL!!! Hoeld oen tu dat tikit, baybee, cuz I proemis tu saev a leedle biet of me fur u. . .buet doen't tael PP an Irena, okae?? * ruenz my feengrz thru ur hare az I kees u *  
  
Angaloth: al sez I noew git 95% of da e-male she haz en her boex. Hoew abot a *snuegl* dis tiem?  
  
Holly: Dat thoeng thaeng theeng iz uendrwaer?? Bie da Valar! Hoew en da wurld due u puet dat . . .(al whispers in now bright red elven ear) Sweat Elbereth!!  
  
dawtheminstrel: I em glaed u joend us! Hav u haed a chaense tu goe sea da stoeree frum da beaginin yaet? It'z noet reely soe skaerrie den. *huegz u *  
  
Dunrosiel: I doen't rimimbur haevin a kaek fite. Soep fite wuz guud tho. *snuegglz*  
  
Lady Peredhel: Oeh, soerrie! * ketchez kees* I em keaping dis kees furever, rite hear *puetz kees oen cheak * *bloez won bak *  
  
Grammar Laedee: Deed u sea my neuw haet?? al iz waerin da paentz dat maech. Dey ar grean an wite an blak wid cloevrz all ober dem. I goet tu ware dem fur a leedle wile, den she stoel dem bak. * beeg hueg fur u*  
  
JastaElf: *watez * *watez * *watez sum moer * *THUD! * * oepenz won eye, seaz Celeb Baud daenglin frum Ada's feengurz * * pertindz tu bea dead.* *Yaep, DEAD. *  
  
Katani Petitedra: Ooooeeh! I lub poestit noetz! Dey coem en all sieziz an kulurz an dey ar steekie! Deed I sae I lub poestit noetz?? * huegz u*  
  
Sperry Dee: Oeh, cuet leedle Nazbuenniez! Whin ar dey coemin? Iz Spreeng brake ovr yaet? * keesiz*  
  
Blume: I theenk we ar gunna hafta git a beegr howse. al iz tuff, she doen't ware worrier braydz eberydae fur nuthin. * bloewz a kees tu u*  
  
Laura: I lub hoersiz. I haed a reely guud tiem. * snuegglz u*  
  
Estina: Deed dis chaeptr aenser ur kwestshunz? I hoep soe! All it kost Yeas Deer wuz da tikitz an da fuud. He goet oeff cheep dis tiem. * cueddlz u*  
  
Anja: al wuz noet dere, an I haed tu goe git redy rite awae. I theenk she enjoeyd it at da eand. *skweese! *  
  
Digital Jessie: Tael ur maer dis *wheesprz * Dat shuld hep. * weenkz*  
  
Legolana Greenleaf: *Caen *grateulashunz oen ur graend caen oepining! * muenchez hoerse-shaepd peenuet budder kup an seandz sum elbin lub tu u *  
  
Mickie: U muest hav bean dere tu! Deed u sea me at da seerkus? Hear, dis ez whut al keapz en her pokitbuuk * haendz ovr a boex of NASCAR baendaedz*  
  
Goddess-Isis-112: Thaenkz fur da Keesiz. I lub dese thaengz. Draessin uep iz fuen, buet shoewin oeff iz eben bedder. * greanz an huegz u*  
  
aftem: Whin iz ur birfdae? Ar u havin a sleapober? Leedle Peep haz dose sumtiemz. Loetz of fuen! * smuuch*  
  
laure: Ar u maed at Glorfindel an Assfelloff? Dese ar Poesun kuukeez! Tael ur Mom dat her kuukeez wear wundurful. * muenchz an bloez u a kruemby kees*  
  
Lily Frost: Iz dat u whoe keapz kaellin me? al sed I kinnot aksept eni moer frea treepz tu Deezneywurld oer bie eni moer siedeeng oer reaplaesmint weendowz. She sez I EM da sakureity fur da howse, and we doen't nead tu bie dat ethr az loeng az I hav my boe an aroz. *weenkz *  
  
IRENA: HAE, BAYBEE!! Iz dat thaeng ur waerin a haerniss? It luukz like dat thoeng thaeng theeng dat Holly tryd tu giv me. I thot Majur Thom wuz wurkin oen ur traenin, buet I'd bea glaed tu giv heem sum 'teepz.' Elben lub style, baybee. *snoeggz u a guud won *  
  
Stephiroth: MY ADAR?? A KLOEWN?? * hie fievz u* Uehm.Noe. An yaeh, dat saeyn "If u kin't sae enithaeng nise, doen't sae enithaeng at all" kin git u en a LOET of trubel, soe bea karful whoe u sae it tu. * hiedz frum JastaElf an Ada*  
  
Hiro-tyre: I hav sean da Cirque De Soliel komershulz oen TV. Dey ar guud! * seandz u a snueggl*  
  
Campy-Oh: Mebbe I culd git a joeb az a kloewn. . . . Naeh, Ada wuld keel me. Plues I doen't like it whin da baelluunz poep. *hueg fur u *  
  
Chelsey: Noe, I deed noet git tu keap da koestumz. I deed git tu keap da puerpel shurt an da haet wid "Da Gratest Shoew Oen Erth" oen it. * Sweat keesez fur u*  
  
Arilyn: We haed a grate tiem! Eberydae iz a fuen dae at al'z howse. Weel, almoest eberydae. *huegz u *  
  
JavaGlxy: Hannon le, JavaGlxy! I lub u tu! * skweeze*  
  
Becky Greenleaf: Sea, al? Eberybuddie lubz me! Noew dat u hav moer ruum en ur kloesit, u kin bie suem neuw klothz! * kees*  
  
Andy'sPrincess: It muest hav bean da Elvis maedisin. Dese lub ledderz taek awile tu tipe, siense I kin oenlee due won ledder at da tiem, buet I em gittin bedder at it. * keesiz u*  
  
Fallohide Pride: It'z okae. I chek tu maek shur bie da daet dey ar rittin. I aelso chek da e-male, cuz sumtiemz peepl kin't git da buddon at ff.net tu wurk rite. I lub u tu! *snuegglz * I em soe glaed u caem tu joyn us! Hannon le fur da choklit baskit of guudeez. * ruebz tuemmie*  
  
Frodo girl: Frodo iz goenna bea eben hoettr whin he gitz tu Mownt Duum. I lub u tu! *kueddl *  
  
Lou: It'z guud tu sea u agin! Soerrie fur da deelae, dat stoerrie of owr lievz iz steel goen oen, and we weel tael it suun, okae?? * elbin lub fur u *  
  
Astrid Tinuvial: Hannon le fur da keez. Da gurlz whoe snoeg wid me I alreedy noe. I hava loet of faengurlz u sea. *waevz tu u * Wekkom tu da klueb!  
  
The Two Princesses: I goet ur e-male! Sea?? al'z fase luukd jest like dis * skweenciz eyez kloezd an duekz* I em glaed u liked ur praesentz. Ur goenna seand me a praesnt tuu?? Oeh yaeh, baybee! (c Legolas) I lub praenentz! XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO  
  
MNT: Coem oen, nin mellon! Puesh da bueddon dere, an tael me u ar hear. I noe u ar luerkin ouet dere, I kin here u wid my elbin eerz! * U kin hav ur keez whin u puesh da bueddon, coem oen! *  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
All done, nin mel?  
  
I thaenk soe. I em alwaez afraed I meesed sumbuddie.  
  
I know the feeling, baby.  
  
See you next time, and thanks for all your notes to us both! 


	7. Let the Soap Opera Begin

Author's Notes: Ok, I promised to explain why there was such a long gap between chapters there. A lot of you thought we had gone AWOL to the Bahamas, didn't you?? The truth is I was waiting to see how this part of the story would all play out. Those of you with aversions to doctors and things of such nature be warned. I will try to be discreet, but you may have questions you might want to consider the younger readers about before you ask in your reviews. Feel free to e-mail me at alliwantisanelfforchristmas@hotmail.com if you feel your question is a bit detailed for younger or more squeemish eyes, ok? Thanks for your attention during this little commercial break, and now on to our show. . . .  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter 7 Let the Soap Opera Begin  
  
Wednesday morning I wake up with a backache. Thinking I must have slept wrong, I try moving around and walking through the house, trying to stretch it out. It's a vague sort of pain happening only on the right side.  
  
Legolas is already parked in front of the TV, watching his beloved "Pee Bea Ess." The strains of the Cookie Monster singing, "C is for Cookie, that's good enough for me," accompanied by fine elven tenor wafts through the den, mixed with the occasional sounds of crunching as he absentmindedly chews his Rice Chex straight from the box.  
  
"Good morning, Prance," I say halfheartedly as I head for the microwave to heat up my heating pad.  
  
"Moernin," he mumbles through a mouthful of cereal, never taking his eyes from the TV screen.  
  
Ten minutes later, my backache is increasing despite the stretching and the heat, increasing to the point I am really beginning to . . .not feel so hot.  
  
In another five minutes, I am on my knees worshipping the porcelain god in the bathroom. The right side of my back feels like some big Uruk-hai is squashing it in some medieval torture device, and he's laughing while he does it. I cannot stop the long, low moan that escapes my lips.  
  
In the den, a fine pair of pointed elven ears picks up the sounds of distress over Kermit the Frog and the steel drum rhythm of "Caribbean Amphibian". His curious face appears in the doorway, his head cocked to one side.  
  
"al?" he asks softly. "U okae?"  
  
"Get the phone for me," I manage to gasp before throwing up again. He darts down the hallway, reappearing momentarily with phone in hand. I dial the number to Yes Dear's office and quickly hand the phone back to the Prance as another huge wave of nausea hits me. I hear his frantic voice shouting into the phone, "Sumpthaeng iz roeng wid al! Coem hoem kwik!" as my world fades to black. . . .  
  
When I come to, there's a cold wet washcloth on my forehead and a long fingered hand is patting my cheek. The pain is so bad now I can't get up from where I am on the floor.  
  
"al?" he calls, his voice full of worry. "Whut'z roeng, al? Whut iz da maettr?"  
  
"Legolas," I gasp, "can you help me get up off this floor?"  
  
He lifts me carefully in his arms and carries me to Yes Dear's recliner chair in the den. Depositing me gently in the seat, he kneels beside me and softly strokes my arm. "Whut due I due, al? Hoew kin I healp u?"  
  
"Help me push the chair back and put my feet up," I grit through clenched teeth, feeling lightheaded again. "And can you empty the bathroom trash can and bring it to me, quick?"  
  
By now the tears are threatening to fall and I am hurting bad enough I couldn't stay still if all of Haldir's Lothlorien army were drawing arrows on me at the same time. As I writhe in agony, I am aware Yes Dear's car has arrived only because Legolas leaps up from his position at my side and bolts to open the door. As he pulls Yes Dear through the doorway, I hear my better half ask, "What happened?"  
  
Coming around the corner of the kitchen to catch a glimpse of me is all Yes Dear needs to tell him exactly what is going on. We've been here before, many, many times.  
  
Legolas whispers intently to him, "An eeveel whizrd muest hav kaest a spael oen her. I hav neber sean einthaeng like dis beafoar."  
  
Yes Dear's quick, not to mention experienced, and in the time it takes Legolas to make his report, Yes Dear's already at the diagnosis. "Ahhhh, another kidney stone, I see."  
  
"Oh yeah, baby," I squeak out.  
  
Two quick phone calls later and Yes Dear is warming up the car, preparing to take me to the Emergency Room of our local county hospital. Climbing out of the recliner, the pain intensifies even more and I find I cannot stand up to walk. Yes Dear moves to catch my arm to support me, but Legolas is having none of that.  
  
"I goet her," he tells Yes Dear. "U git dat doar." As Yes Dear grabs the plastic trash can I am waving desperately for, Legolas scoops me up in his arms and rushes to the car. He buckles me into the front passenger seat and leaps in the back.  
  
"Due u hav a heeler?" he asks Yes Dear.  
  
"That's where we're going," Yes Dear answers him.  
  
Legolas croons softly to me, wipes my face with the washcloth, and passes me tissues on which to dry my tears and blow my nose. He's stretched himself forward as far as his seatbelt will allow. Yes Dear drives down the country backroads as fast as he dares to go. I just cry and moan and rock forward and back, holding my right flank and making a noise that vaguely sounds like the siren of an EMS truck. I think what a good thing it is that Little Pip is already at school and missing this show.  
  
By the time Yes Dear drops Legolas and me off at the emergency entrance, the pain has subsided slightly; enough that I can walk if I stay hunched over. I clutch the trash can to my chest, wondering if the various shades of green I am feeling are actually visible on my skin. The ER secretary takes one look at me and calls for the triage nurse to come to the waiting room. As the nurse motions for me to follow her to the admitting room, Legolas plasters himself to my right side, not about to be left behind.  
  
"Sir? Sir?" calls the secretary. "You'll need to fill out this paperwork!" I realize she is talking to Legolas, and heaven forbid if anyone tries to decipher his spelling, I'll be having a brain tumor removed or something.  
  
"Legolas," I say, "go get Yes Dear."  
  
"I em NOET leevin u." It is a statement of fact. There is no point in arguing with that particular elven tone of voice.  
  
Just then, Yes Dear walks through the ER doors and assesses the situation. "I'm with her," he says to the secretary. To her puzzled look he adds, "Here's her insurance card."  
  
With the secretary thus satisfied, Legolas is allowed to accompany me to the admitting room. The nurse has me sit in a chair with the Prance standing beside me on my right. She begins to write on the paper attached to a clipboard sitting there on the counter top.  
  
"What brings you here to our ER today?" she asks me.  
  
Before I can answer, the Prance announces, "U sea, dis eeveel whizard . . . "  
  
"I think I'm having a kidney stone," I cut in. Legolas gives me the Thranduil eyebrow.  
  
"I take it this is not your first?" the nurse asks me. She cuts her eyes to the Prance, giving him a little smile out of the corner of her mouth. He smiles back.  
  
"No," I answer. "I have had them since I was a teenager, off and on every couple of years."  
  
She writes that down on her clipboard. Legolas is looking around the room now, surveying all the varied pieces of equipment.  
  
The nurse sticks a thermometer under my tongue. While it registers, she wraps a blood pressure cuff around my left upper arm and pushes the button so that it will inflate. Legolas is all eyes at this point.  
  
"Whut's dat?" he asks. This is when I realize I have neglected to tell him not to ask questions, for fear he will draw attention to himself by showing he is not familiar with the basics of good healthcare. Face it, even most human children recognize a BP cuff and a thermometer when they see one. All of this is brand new stuff to Legolas, and mighty interesting stuff on top of that.  
  
"This is a blood pressure cuff," the nurse replies with a sweet smile that is certainly not wasted on the Prance. "It tells me about how your wife's heart is doing."  
  
"She'z noet my wief," comes from the Prance at the same time something sounding like, "I'm nod hez whief," emits from my own lips around the thermometer. Legolas giggles.  
  
"Oh," the nurse replies with a frown.  
  
"I liv wid her," corrects the Prance. Somehow things are NOT getting better with that particular clarification.  
  
Yes Dear takes this opportunity to walk through the door, and says pointedly to the nurse, "I'm her husband."  
  
Oh yeah, baby. (c al) Things are clear as glass now, aren't they?  
  
The BP cuff deflates at the same time the thermometer beeps. The nurse takes both from me and records the numbers on her little clipboard.  
  
"Come with me," she says.  
  
We follow her into the Emergency Room to a large central desk. She picks up a little cup in a plastic wrapper and hands it to me. "Get me a sample, could you?" she asks, pointing to the door of the restroom behind me.  
  
As I go in and turn to shut the door, Legolas crowds in with me. "No, baby," I tell him, "I can do this by myself."  
  
"I doen't waent tu leeve u, al," he says. "U shuldn't bea aloen."  
  
I smile reassuringly at him. "You can stand outside and guard the door for me, ok? If you do that, I promise not to lock it. Then you can get in if I need to call you for help."  
  
He frowns at this, then quickly assesses the room to see there are no other ways to get in or out. Verifying things seem safe enough to suit him, he nods to me and steps back outside.  
  
When I come out, he turns his nose up at the contents of my little plastic cup. "I hoep u waeshd ur haendz," he scolds me.  
  
The nurse then escorts us to a curtained room with a stretcher and a single chair. Yes Dear commandeers the chair in a quick hurry. He's done this before, and knows to claim the chair before it gets moved out of the way. Legolas stands at my side, uncertain of what to do.  
  
"Come sit with me, Prance," I say, patting the bed beside me as I sit down. He carefully boosts himself up to perch at my side, his hip touching mine. It's as if he is afraid if he loses physical contact with me, all hope for my recovery is lost.  
  
The doctor, a burly dude dressed in blue scrubs, steps in and introduces himself. "Hello, I'm Dr. King, the emergency attending today. I understand you're having back pain?"  
  
He asks for a brief rundown of my history, and watches me squirm in pain while I give him the details that seem pertinent. Legolas sits stock still at my side. Yes Dear throws in a detail or two; heck, most times he's more capable of remembering the details at this stage than I am.  
  
"Well," says Dr. King, "you know the drill then. Let's get you started on something for pain and nausea and then we'll get an X-ray, ok?" He smiles kindly.  
  
"Okae!" pitches in the Prance.  
  
"Not for you, dummy," says Yes Dear from his chair in the corner.  
  
"I noe it'z noet fur me," Legolas answers with a scowl. "It'z fur al. She neadz tu feal bedder."  
  
A new nurse comes in, identifying herself as Wanda. She's carrying a basket with IV supplies in it. "Which one of you gets the IV?" she teases.  
  
Feeling better at the thought of good pain medicine, I dredge up a bit of my normal playfulness long enough to hop down from my seat on the stretcher, leaving Legolas sitting there in the hot seat. This elicits a roar of laughter from Wanda.  
  
"Whut?" asks the Prance. When Wanda pulls a rather mean looking needle out of her basket, the Prance realizes he's been had, and scrambles backward off the stretcher, almost landing in Yes Dear's lap.  
  
"Good one, al," says Yes Dear.  
  
"Thanks," I reply.  
  
"Whut?" asks the Prance. "I em noet gittin DAT!"  
  
"Oh, alright, you chickens," I say, working my way back onto the stretcher and laying down, "I'll take it."  
  
"Men," mutters Wanda with a smile as she ties the tourniquet above my elbow. Legolas watches her intently from the safety of the other side of the bed. When she slides the needle into my vein, he looks quickly away with a grimace and shudders. He peeps back slowly, his face a bit paler than before, even for an elf.  
  
The nurse tapes the assembly to my arm so I won't bump it and then excuses herself briefly, leaving the three of us alone. Yes Dear has already gathered a handful of magazines from the waiting room, and is happily perusing "Sports Illustrated" and "Golf". Legolas stands at my side, protecting me from whatever danger his mind can conjure up next.  
  
When the nurse reappears, she has what I have been waiting for all along. Drugs. Good Drugs. The kind your mother tells you to "Just Say No!" to, except if you are having a kidney stone and the doctor says it's ok. She pulls the cap off the needle, and I see Legolas go another shade paler.  
  
I reach out and take his hand. "It's ok, she's not going to stick me with that," I tell him.  
  
She nods and smiles as she puts the medicine into the IV catheter tube that is in my vein near my elbow. "That's the one for the pain," she says, "and this one is to help you stop feeling like you're going to throw up." She moves to put the railings up on each side of the bed, so I won't fall if I turn over.  
  
In a few minutes, I am feeling pretty sleepy. I can see a clock on the wall through a little crack where Wanda has left the curtain open so she can peek in on me through the crack as she passes by without coming in and waking me up. I close my eyes for just a second, just a blink really, and when I open them to look at the clock again, 30 minutes have passed. Yes Dear is still reading in the corner. Legolas is still standing at my side.  
  
"Would you like to sit up here by me?" I ask the Prance. He nods. He starts to climb over the rail, but decides that looks a little undignified and hesitates. Wanda sees his distress through the crack in the curtain and comes in to show him how to lower it.  
  
"Remember, if you decide to stand back up, you have to put this back in place, ok?" she reminds him.  
  
"Okae," he answers.  
  
We stay like that, the three of us, for what seems like a long time. Suddenly there is a flurry of movement outside the curtain, and a woman dressed in a scrub top with teddy bears dancing on it enters.  
  
"Time to take you to X-ray," she says.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Lub Ledders frum Legolas:  
  
al sez tu uael u all "Thaenkz!" fur all da nise theengz u sae tu her. She wuld noet traed her lief fur enibuddeez fur enithaeng, at leest dat iz whu she sez. She sez she lubz u all!  
  
Sarwolfe Snape: * huegz u bak* I tried tu bea az shienin az Laedee Elbereth. It wuz loetz of fuen!  
  
Nilmandra: Mithrandir wuz a Maertie-Stew? BAWAHAEHAEHAE!!! Pearfkit? I em noet alwaez pearfikt. I weel trie tu bea pearfekt if u waent me tu whin I git tu #7. Hear iz my faevurite geeft tu u * deap loeng kees wid a taest of hunniesuekl oen da sied*  
  
Fadesintothewest: Titeroep waelkin iz aloet like croessin da Celebrant. Dat grean owtfiet fealt perty guud, buet da puerpil Tea-shert iz wae tu smaell reely. I em goen tu keap it beecuz it haz Laedee Nimrodel'z pikshur oen it. *huegz *  
  
Aranel: I em soe glaed u cawt uep! * paetz coeld warshkloeth oen ur haed* All bedder noew?? Thaenkz fur joynin us. * bloewz a kees bak tu u!* U deedn't sea dat, deed u Matt??  
  
Dragon-of-the-north: Titeroepz AR like treabraenchiz en Mirkwuud! I hav haed loetz of praktise. Mebbe TreeHugger weel sumdae draew a pikshur of da grean owtfiet fur eberybuddie. I em seandeeng a *beeg, beeg hueg * to u - iz dat okae??  
  
dawtheminstrel: *skweeze *U noe, I shuld hav askd al abot leten Laedee Nimrodel coem tu liv wid us. She wuld mees da peeple klaeppin fur her tho I theenk. An der titez, I tael u! Tities!  
  
Lady Silence: Bea karful, u'll speel ur meelk! An u mite droep ur kuukie tu! Dat wuld bea BAED! I em glaed u like my haet. Moer haetz tu coem! * kees fu u!*  
  
Katani Petitendra: Dat caenon maen gaev me tiem tu git my hare drie. Pluez al sez she toel dat paert fur all da dye haerd Tolkien canon faenz soe dey kin sae I em foelloweeng canon! BAWAEHAEHAE!!! * smuuch*  
  
Ms November Tuesday: TUESDAY!!! It'z U! *kees * I em wiekied, arnt I?? *weenkz * Hoersebak riedin souwndz like a loet of fuen. An I proemiss, No leezird eereengz! *hears an eggstra kees fur u-KEES! *  
  
Michelle: * huegz tu u tu!* I em glaed u ar okae. Mebbe u need sum titeroep laessinz??  
  
Fallohide Pride: I em guud at loetz of thaengz. I hav haed a loet of tiem tu praktise. Dat'z whut haeppinz whin u are immoral! * keesiz tu u tu!*  
  
JastaElf: *THUD * Hi Jasta, al here. You know, I really thought eventually he would develop a tolerance to being called "My Little Honeybun of Elven Love" but I don't know in immortal yeats how long that takes. Ahhh, her he comes 'round now. . . . Hae Jaesta, Hae Ada. *Haengz haed an blueshiz * Soerrie I hav bean soe muech truble laetlee. I em glaed Celeb Baud iz bak whur it bealonengz. *A KEES??? * ***THUD***  
  
Blume: Oeh yaeh, baybee! (c Legolas) I stae en truble all da tiem. * kueddlz u* Noew Bea guud!  
  
Newmoon: * kin't breeth, kin't breethe! * Wheaw! U shur ar eggsited, aren't u?? I lub Hairy Poeddir. LP duz tu, she iz da won wnoe toeld me abot heem. *skweeziz u geantlee! *  
  
Sperry Dee: I bet Chaerlie iz gittin beegur eberydae noew. Hav u peekd eni baebee naemz yaet? Hoers Kaemp souwndz like fuen! * huegz*  
  
Astrid Tinuvial: My Adar alwaez toel me, "U noe, Leedle Greenleaf, if u kaen't bea powliet, doen't bea nuthin at all." Thaenk u fur da choklit baer. I oeffird sum to al, jest tu bea powliet, buet she wuz powliet tu an sed "Noe thaenk u." * cueddlz u *  
  
The Whisperer: Oeh, I lub dat Beeg hueg an kees! I em trien tu taek guud kaer of al. Hearz a * beeg hueg an kees* bak atcha, baybee!  
  
leail: LEAIL! I KIN'T HAELP MISEF!! LEAIL! LEAIL! * daensiz gleafuellie* I lub da wae u lub me, baybee. . . !! HAE PP, HAE IRENA!! LUUK OBER DERE-DAT PIERIT WHOE THAENKZ HE IZ ME IZ KOEMIN!!!! (Kwik, kees me wile dey ar luukin ober der, leail! *SNOGG! *)  
  
anna: I theenk eberybuddie likez dat titeroep koestuem. Mebbie I weel sea if al kin bie me won at Waelmaert. . . . * hueg*  
  
TreeHugger: I lub da seerkis! An noew I lub kloewnz tu! It jest goez tu shoew u dat u muest keap an oepin miend an bea braev abot eberythaeng. U souwnd like u mite hav bean wurried ursef abot me oen da titeroep? Oer wuz it dat u deedn't waent tu sea al trie tu eggsplayn whie I wuz waerin paentiehoze tu da EMS guyz? Dere Titez, I tael u!! Sae Hae tu Meestr Ron an Emma an Nate Bueddie-he ez soe braev! I em prowd of u, Nate!! *Huegz *  
  
Lady Peredhel: I wuld bea glaed tu puet dat shert bak oen fur u, buet u jest keap ur rite aerm fur writin moer, okae?? U kin bea da "Keapur of Legolas' Keez oen da cheak" if I kin be da "Luer of Legolas" ! MMMmmm. . . .dose Italeen keesez AR guud! *smuuch *  
  
Mickie: al fownd da NASCAR baendaedz at Waelmaert en a grean boez. I bet u ar haeppie wid da NASCAR newz laetlee, arn't u??!! Thaenkz fur da Doev hartz an keesez! * snuegglz*  
  
Vladimirz Anger: U like da grean kostuem tu, hueh? Whur due u goe whin u goe awae?? * kees fur u*  
  
The Two Princesses: * waevz!* Iz M okae noew? I em beean vary guud fur al. I hoep ur searvr iz gittin bedder, mebbe u shuld puet uep a haelp waentid sine an due sum eenturveewz. Hearz sum moer keesiz an Huegz! Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo  
  
Holly: * blueshz* Thaenkz! I thaenk I wuz steel tu weat frum da soepfite tu bea a kaenonbaell. * bee hueg an kees fur u!*  
  
Cara6 & Andy8: Oeh, goesh, al -luuk whoe I fugoet laest tiem!!! I em soe soerrie!! Wealkum! * waevz* Choklit iz my faevurit fuud. I like peetza tu, wid eberytheng oen it. I em glaed u like my stoeree soe muech. Duz ur Moem souwnd bedder noew whin she perteandz tu bea me? * weeknz* U guyz lubd da titeroep tu, hueh?? I kin due dat titeroep thaeng oen treabraenchiz tu. Coemz en haendee whin eggscapeing Orkz an Gobblinz. Won dae I will trie dat byseekle, buet oen da grownd wid sum traenin weelz furst. Kin u ried a biek? Kin u teech me? Hearz sum * huegz* fur Cara6 an a *haendshaek * fur Andy8!  
  
Dunrosiel: Eeting an dreenkin wile reedin abot me shuld be eeleagle. At leest a waernin en da awthurz noetz at da toep den. * huegz*  
  
PuterPatty: * heaheahea!-TT's stoerrie!* Whut kloewn? Whut baettl? ~Nevermind, dear-go on ~ Hoew abot reegleeng? U waent me reegleeng tu, rite? *reeglz fur PP * Shuet uep, Irena. Mebbe dere weel bea a pikshur of my grean owtfiet. . . ? A titeroep an a hiewier ar da saem soert of thaeng, reely. al sez she noewz her joeb at da seerkis wuld bea kleanen uep aftur Laydee Nimrodel. An da elapuntz. An da tiegrzz tu. Hae, meleth? Doen't peench soe haerd! Dat huertz! *snoeg, snoeg, snoeg *  
  
Magical Rachel: al wuz already grae whin I goet hear. She sez it'z bloend sun hilitez if u aesk her doe. *cofffaengurlcoff * Hearz a * hueg* an a * kees* fur u!  
  
Laura: Hae, noew derez sum GUUD ideez!!! Eberybuddie culd bea en my seerkis! Woew! Thaenkz! * bloewz u a kees! *  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Hae, al?  
  
Yes, Prance Legolas?  
  
Whur ez eberybuddie?  
  
I don't know, baby. Maybe they are still thinking you are working on your reviews and they have lots of time to type in for their "lub ledderz".  
  
Oeh. . . .Wael, we weel jest suerprize dem, hueh? * eeviel grean* 


	8. You Oughta Be In Pictures

A/N: I claim to have been under the influence of really good drugs-with a doctor's note, mind you-while undergoing the events you are about to see in this chapter. Names have been changed to protect the innocent. At least, I think I changed your name. If not, well, I don't remember much about what happened here, so you oughta be ok anyway. Not too squicky this time, as least I don't think so. Of course, I don't remember much. . .see above.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter 8 You Oughta Be In Pictures  
  
"Eggz Rae?" repeats the Prance. He scoots a bit closer to my hip, assuming a more protective bearing. "Due u waenna goe tu Eggz Rae, al?" he asks with a worried expression.  
  
"I NEED to go to X-ray, Legolas," I tell him. "It doesn't really matter whether I want to go or not."  
  
"Hop down, sweetie," the woman in the teddy bear scrubs says, patting Legolas on the thigh. Her nametag reads "Robin".  
  
"Weel, whut if I doen't waent tu?" says the Prance, deciding in his protectiveness that being contrary might be the best defense for this current threat. He sits tight up against me, his bottom mashing against my right hip.  
  
"For cryin' out loud, Legolas, get outta the way!" snaps Yes Dear, finally putting down the magazine and getting up from the chair. One look at the Prance's distressed face is all it takes to soften him. "Look, buddy, they're not gonna hurt her. If you want, you and I can follow them down there, and you can stay with al until they take her back to do it."  
  
Legolas cocks his head and considers this, and then he finally relents and climbs down from his perch on the stretcher. I can actually feel the blood rush back into the vacated space of skin on my hip. Legolas moves to stand at the ready beside Yes Dear, arms at his sides and his feet spread apart. It is the same guarding stance he used in Meduseld, the Golden Hall of King Theoden, when Theoden and Aragorn had their discussion about the course of action that should be taken against the approaching darkness of Saruman's army while Gimli consumed his fill of meat and ale.  
  
Robin steps over toward me. Legolas suddenly springs back into action, leaping between her and the stretcher. Yes Dear tries to catch him by the arm, but with the handful of magazines to juggle, he misses. "NO!" I hear him command.  
  
"It'z okae, I goet it," says the Prance. Ever helpful, he reaches down past Robin to grasp the lowered bedrail and bring it up, latching it firmly in place. "I almost furgoet," he says, blushing.  
  
Robin's a bit startled at his sudden movement, being still slightly unsure of him because of the defensive posturing he was putting on before. "Uhm. . . well. . . ahhh. . . .Here we go then," she stutters.  
  
She rolls the stretcher out of the curtained cubicle and turns right, moving down through the ER to a big wooden door. The Prance and Yes Dear follow a short distance behind. Robin turns back toward them, saying, "Would one of you mind going ahead of us and opening the door there?"  
  
"ME!" shouts the Prance, hopping past Yes Dear and the stretcher and into the lead. As he bolts to the door and reaches to push it open, Yes Dear slaps the big silver disc way back further on the wall by the light switch, activating the automatic door opener. Legolas doesn't see this though, and when the door magically swings outward just as he reaches it without touching, he stops dead in his tracks, looking down at his feet. He knows about the door opener at the grocery store, the one with the black floor mat that activates when you step on it, and the one at Wal-Mart with the motion sensor with the little red light overhead that sees you approaching and slides the doors open to let you in. His quick elven senses had not detected either of these assistive devices, and his brain had registered for him to push the door open by the way the hinges were aligned. He's totally unprepared for wizard magic.  
  
Robin, not anticipating that he will stop, runs smack into him with the stretcher. "Oh! Sorry, sweetie!" she exclaims. "Are you ok?"  
  
Legolas, now standing dead center in the doorway, is looking for the mechanism by which this latest devilry has been accomplished. He nods haphazardly to no one in particular, muttering, "Ueh hueh. . . ." Unable to satisfy his curiosity, he runs his hands over the framing, searching for whatever it is that made the door open.  
  
"What's he doing?" I hear Robin whisper to Yes Dear where they are standing by my head.  
  
"Looking for the door opener. Watch this," Yes Dear answers her.  
  
As the Prance's investigating hand reaches the hydraulic door closer at the top corner, Yes Dear gently uses his elbow to tap the silver disc for the automatic door again, causing it to close. Legolas jumps back, surveying what he thinks is the explanation for his problem. When the door is fully closed, with us still inside the ER, Legolas waves his hand in front of the hydraulic closer again, and Yes Dear dutifully presses the silver disc. This goes on for a few openings and closings until my better half decides that his protégé has mastered the fine art of waving his hand in the air.  
  
Now the stakes change.  
  
The door is currently closed with us still on the inside. The Prance looks back at Robin, and with a sweet smile that would melt butter, says, "Raedie?"  
  
"Yes," says Robin.  
  
The Prance smiles a little bigger and turns back to the door. He raises and waves his right hand.  
  
Robin keeps on smiling.  
  
Yes Dear stands completely still.  
  
Nothing else happens.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Frowning, Legolas tries using his left hand. Nothing happens. He waves it around in a bigger circle. Still nothing.  
  
Now the Prance is scowling. When he turns back to Robin, the scowl magically disappears and is instantly replaced by a look of genuine innocence. He shrugs his shoulders, smiles sweetly, and turns to the door again. This time when he goes to raise his hand, he rubs his palms together first. As his right hand begins to wave, Yes Dear pushes the silver button and the door opens up once again by some sort of secret sorcery.  
  
Legolas doesn't waste a second. He grabs the foot of the stretcher and hauls me through the doorway top speed with one mighty tug. "Coem oen!!" he calls to Robin and Yes Dear who are still standing in the ER. "Huerrie!!"  
  
We take another right turn, and a few moments later reach the doors of the X-ray department. Yes Dear gives the Prance a break this time and pushes the automatic door button before Legolas can pause to contemplate any further gesticulations. Legolas hauls his end of the stretcher quickly through the doorway, making certain this time not to get caught outside the doors.  
  
Robin parks me in the hallway while she goes to see if the room is ready. When she comes back with the ok, I'm rolled into a darkened room with a hard table in the center that has a huge machine hovering over it.  
  
Yes Dear, having done this plenty of times before, follows me right on in, but Legolas stops just inside the door, silhouetted by the bright light of the hallway. In my inebriated state, he looks like a deity of some kind, glowing with the illumination of the backlight that casts fiery reflections of gold off of his long hair. He has assumed the sentinel stance again, not moving from the center of the doorway.  
  
"Excuse me," says a voice from the hall. When he doesn't move, the speaker clears her throat and tries again. "I said EXCUSE ME!"  
  
The Prance doesn't budge an inch, remaining in place with feet planted shoulder-width apart, arms folded across his chest, watchful eyes turned forward on his charge. The only movements he makes are the cocking of his blond head a half-inch to the right, the lifting of the Thranduil eyebrow on the left, and the undulations of his lips as he inquires over his shoulder, "An whoe ar u?"  
  
"I'm the radiology technician. Now get outta my doorway," says the petite little middle-aged woman as she elbows him aside and enters the room. Picking up a small stepstool, she approaches me and places it on the floor beside the stretcher before reaching to lower the side railing.  
  
"Climb on down, honey," she says to me, "and come get up on this table here."  
  
As I sit up and push the blanket off my legs, she makes a tsk-tsk sound and says, "Honey, why've you still got your street clothes on? You're gonna need a gown."  
  
She elbows her way out past the Prance again, exchanging looks - his 'The Thranduilion Special' and hers 'The Look of Doom'. Since Yes Dear knows they're both going to get tossed out if the doorway's still blocked when she comes back, he goes to the Prance's side and pulls him by the elbow, saying, "Come on in, Bud. It's ok."  
  
"Ueehhh-uehhh," grunts the Prance.  
  
It doesn't' take elf eyes to see from where I'm sitting on the side of the stretcher the flash of apprehension that passes across Legolas' fair face. He quickly pulls his arm out of Yes Dear's grasp.  
  
"What's the matter?" Yes Dear asks.  
  
Legolas glances around to see who's listening before he leans over to Yes Dear's ear and whispers, "It'z tuu daerk en dere!"  
  
A giggle bursts from my lips. Had I not been so drunk from the drugs, I might have realized it when he first stopped at the door. Normally, this much new machinery in one room would have sent his curiosity skyrocketing.  
  
"The technician's just going to take my picture, baby," I try to reassure him. "It's ok; it won't hurt me at all. Come in here out of her way and let her do her job."  
  
I watch as he begins to lower his guard and slowly approach me, his blond head weaving side to side as he absorbs all the sights to behold. Before I can take three breaths, he's plastered himself to my right side again, still taking it all in.  
  
The technician returns with a hospital gown tucked under her arm. She helps me off the stretcher, holding the IV bag for me as she escorts me to the little dressing room in the corner. She motions for me to sit down as she lays the gown on the wooden bench there in the little room and works to hang the IV bag on a hook on the wall behind my head.  
  
"If you need me, honey, you just call. I'll be right outside the door," she says. Turning to leave, she runs headlong into the broad, muscular chest of my protector.  
  
"OUT!" she orders, putting a sharpened, well-manicured fingernail smack dab in the center of the Prance's breastbone. She marches him straight backward, his mouth shaped into a little "O" and his eyes glued to the indentation her blood-red fingernail is making in his T-shirt.  
  
I have to give him credit here. Instead of reacting with his well-honed elven fighting skills, he instead uses his charm school education and tries the suave diplomatic approach. "Vary nies! Whoe duz ur nalez?"  
  
I never hear her response as she closes the door once she succeeds in separating us. I hurry to change my clothes, ready to get back to a lying down position as my head is now doing roller coaster moves from the medication.  
  
Everything goes just fine until I try to unbutton my jeans. When I bend my elbow to grasp the waistband, I somehow bump the IV needle up there by my elbow rather roughly. Of course, with the strong pain medicine, it hurts a little but not really all that bad, so I ignore it and finish dressing, opening the door and getting a strong hand on my upper arm to escort me to the X-ray table, which is really what I wanted anyway. Anything steady that isn't swaying and tilting around is welcome at this point. To tell the truth, I feel so bombed from the drugs, I'm not even sure whose hand it is.  
  
Once I'm on the table, Yes Dear takes Legolas with him out to the hallway to wait. As they pass through the doorway, I hear the Prance whisper, "Whie duz she keap kallen her hunnie whin her naem'z al?"  
  
The technician takes a starter picture, and then comes over to my side with a huge syringe filled with a clear liquid.  
  
"This is the dye we'll use to see where your stone is," she tells me. She puts the big needle into my IV instead of my arm, so I'm feeling better already. It's nice to know when you see a big horse-sized needle coming at you that you aren't gonna get stuck.  
  
As she pushes the plunger to make the medicine go in, my left arm begins to burn and sting. I'm still pretty smashed from the pain killers, so I don't really think to say anything until almost all of the dye is gone from the syringe and my arm is now stinging and burning from my hand to my elbow. By this time, the technician has noticed there's a spreading puddle underneath my left elbow.  
  
"Ah," she tells me, "your IV's leaking a little bit. Let me dry that up for you." She cleans my arm with a nice warm washcloth, rubbing it gently and then patting it dry. "There. Now for the pictures."  
  
Over the next half-hour or so, she takes about 10 or 12 pictures of my insides while my kidneys work to flush out the dye she put in my arm. At least, I think it was a half-hour. I slept through most of it, and all I remember was hearing her say every once in a while, "Now take a deep breath, blow it all out, and hold your breath. . . . Ok, you can breathe again now."  
  
The next thing I know, there's someone squeezed back up against my right side again, about as tight as peanut butter sticks to the bread in a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I open my eyes to find Legolas holding my hand and sitting perched against my hip.  
  
"U okae, al?" he asks, concern etched all over his face. He's hated the separation, I can tell.  
  
"I'm fine, Prance," I smile at him. "Where did you ditch Yes Dear?"  
  
"He'z ober dere." Legolas answers, pointing to the little room over on the side with all the fluorescent X-ray viewing boxes in it. Ahhh, that's my Yes Dear. He's using a few stealth moves of his own, trying to get a glimpse of my films. He's getting rather skilled in finding the stones now, and gets a kick out of impressing the doctors by pointing out the stones before they can point them out to him.  
  
The technician comes back and helps me to the bathroom before sending Legolas back outside and taking one last picture of me, then she helps me get back onto the stretcher for the ride back to the ER.  
  
"Legolas," I ask, "will you be a dear and get my clothes out of the dressing room for me?"  
  
"Okae, al!" says Prance Helpful. I really think I'm going to rename him that. Especially if it still fits once all this pain medicine wears off.  
  
When we make another stop in the hallway outside while the technician delivers the X-rays to the radiologist to be read, Prance Helpful decides this is a most excellent time to live up to his new title and refold my clothing. It's amazing how funny things are when you're hopped up on drugs, because when he lifts my already-folded shirt from the pile on the stretcher, he drops my bra out from where I have carefully tucked it inside the shirt. I have a laughing fit watching him as he tries to catch it as gravity takes it to the floor. He looks like one of those blooper videos for football players when the ball tips off their outstretched fingertips and bounces around four or five times before they finally drop or catch it. He manages to snag it right before it reaches the floor, and then the contortions begin anew as he tries to cover up what he has just done without anyone noticing.  
  
Of course, it's a main hallway in one of the busiest departments in the place, and he's just spent ten seconds bouncing my bra off his fingertips in front of a pile of people with nothing for entertainment except magazines from three years previous.  
  
I'm sure nobody saw it. Positive in fact. Not a soul in the place would have noticed a long haired hippie wearing a NASCAR racing T-shirt and a crimson red face hurriedly trying to conceal a woman's bra he has just inadvertently liberated from the end of a stretcher while she laughs uproariously like a totally sloshed drunkard.  
  
Nope. Nobody.  
  
I'm just thankful he didn't do what he usually does when he gets his hands on my lingere.  
  
We wait for the X-ray results back in the ER. After another brief napping session, Dr. King peeks his head through the curtain. "Want the good news, or the bad news?" he says.  
  
Watching me blink wide-eyed and still under the influence, he just decides to cut to the chase. "The radiologist says he doesn't see a stone in your left kidney. He also says the contrast dye didn't work very well for some reason, and he can't totally rule out a stone anywhere else either. The good news is, I think you might have already passed it. We'll give you another round of the pain and nausea medication just to be safe, and then you're free to go on home."  
  
He twirls and executes the patented Doctor Disappearing act before I can breathe my sigh of relief. Legolas is patting my hand joyously, smiling from ear to pointed ear. Yes Dear is already gathering up his magazines to return them to the waiting room before we leave.  
  
I get my next fix of painkiller, have my IV discontinued, receive my patient education instruction sheet, and get dressed; now I'm ready to go. Yes Dear goes to retrieve the car while Legolas stands holding firmly onto me at the front door of the hospital.  
  
It isn't until we're in the car and halfway back home that I hear him ask from the backseat, "al? Wuzn't dat paen en ur RITE keedney?"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A/N: Big thanks to PuterPatty, not only for the beta, but for her extra strength and support over the past bit of time. Hannon le, nin mel.  
  
There are others of you who also need thanking, but we are not yet to that part of the saga, are we?? More thankings, coming soon. I said 'thankings', Irena, not 'spankings'. Geez.  
  
Lub Ledderz frum Legolas  
  
Fadesintothewest: I em noet gittin eniware neer dat Eggs Rae sorserie! al sez u git moer fur ur muney wid chield bierth. *cueddlz*  
  
daw the minstrel: I dunnoe whut Lord Elrond duz; I hav neber sean enithang like dis beafour. Dat meadasin al goet at da hoespitul seamed tu wurk tho. *I saevd dis kees jest fur u *  
  
Sperry Dee: Ar da Nazbuenniez hear yaet? Deed Charlie hav tu goe tu da hoespitul tu hav her baybeez? *seandz loetz of elbin lub fur u an Charlie an da baybeez *  
  
TreeHugger: Due u reely thaenk derez a whizrd hear? * luuks around, chekz uendur cowch cueshinz * I doen't sea eni. U ar rite tho, Ada's Eyebroew duzn't wurk hear. I wuld like a shiert like dat laydeez wid da baerz oen it, buet doze neadlez, *shueddrz, * u kin keap dose. *snuegglz u* Doent tael Meestr Ron, okae?  
  
Nilmandra: I wuz vary guud at da hoespitul. At leest, I tryd tu bea vary guud. Dere ar soe meny eenteresteeng thangz dere! * straetch my aermz owt an taek u geentlee entu my eembraese, breengeng u en fur a sloe braethtaekeng kees*  
  
VladmirsAngel: MMMmmmm-M & M's ar guud. I like da neu blew wonz, hoew abot u? U deedn't tael me whut ur foebeeuh iz, melamin. Hoew kin I hep? * cueddlz u*  
  
Lina Skye: Yaes Deer an I maek a guud teem. He paerkz da kar, an I hole al'z haed wile she throez up. Yaes Deer sez he likez me bean heez neu paertner an dat I em reely guud at my joeb. *Hearz a smuuch fur u!*  
  
SarWolfe Snape: Hoespitulz ar skeeerie! Dat ruum wuz daerk en dere, an al haed tu bea all aloen. I dunnoe abot a kaemara dat kin oenlee sea ur eensiedz. *kin u hueg me? Thaenks!*  
  
Lady Silence: * smuuch* Deed u sea my neu haet? I gaev al da eerz oeff my choklit Eestr Raebbitt. She maed me eet da tael-Groas! *gievz u a hie-fiev an a seekrit haendshaek-ax da pingwin whut it meenz, he maed it uep*  
  
Angaloth: we hav a loet of thoern bueshiz en Meedle-erth, jest like hear. It'z a worrierz world oet dere, bea kaerful! * seengz "Caer-ib-e-un Am-fib- e-un, a froewg en a kokonuet trea. . . ." jest fur u*  
  
JastaElf: Honestly, Jasta, you have GOT to quit calling him that-though it's true he DOES get himself all sweetly sticky drooling like that while he's out of it. *pats Prance's face dry and helps him back into compy chair * Hae Jasta! Hae Ada! Haeppie Birfdae, Keeng Thranduil Keetin! We haed tu git a neu coempuder tu! Yaes Deer keeld al'z daed won nite wile we ware at kwior praktise. Ada duzn't due dat laffin thang muech (weel, he DUZ, buet alwaez aftur da doar iz kloezd. I thaenk Saeros an maebee Tanglinna wear de oenlee wonz tu eber sea heem enuf tu sae it wuz NOARMAL). U shuld trie won of al'z fuezzie baelliebuddonz-I thaenk dere da baest! *beeg huegz u, an giv won tu Ada tu, puhleeze?*  
  
Newmoon: Hearz anuthr uepdaut fur u! I doen't noe if I hav hepd muech buet I hav tryd tu stae oudda trubel. Leedle Peep jest goet da Hairy Podder DeeVDee. I lub wachin it wid her. She doen't like spydrz, buet dat reamindz me of hoem. *weenk an a kees fur u*  
  
Dragon-of-the-north: Weel, I deedn't waent dat nuers tu thaenk da roeng theeng, u noe?? It oenlee takez fiev minitz tu git tu da heelrz frum hear, eben tho dey ar a biet straenge indaed. * snuegglz u*  
  
Magical Rachel: U noe, noebuddie sed a thaeng abot my eerz. Ethur dey ar gitting used tu dem noew, or dere ar a loet of uenuzuel luukin people in dis paert of Modren-erth. *sweat kees fur u tu keap*  
  
The Whisperer: I doen't like da neadlez eethr. *shueddrz * Awww, dat's sweat, keapin my hueg an keez oen ur spaeshul shaelf. Hear'z a flaez tu goe beasied dem. *flaexez muesclez fur u *  
  
Lil' Pip: Leedle Peep! Leedle Peep! Iz dat reely u?? Hae, if I kin't boerrow ur klothz, kin I plae wid dat peenk spaerklie baell oen a neklise streeng ensted?? Perty pleeze, wid a choklit keez oen toep?? * gievz bak ur straetchie buebbel shiert I boerroed laest munth*  
  
Rebecca: * paetz ur bak* Hoep u hav raestid uep noew! Thaenkz fur da thot of cheekin suup-dat'z a guud ideea! * kueddlz*  
  
Astrid Tinuvial: I theenk I kowntid foarty-savin ledderz dis tiem. Ebery won iz vary spaeshul tu me. My hare staez kleen naeturelly-Irena sez it muest bea skotchgaerd, whuteber dat iz. *hearz a kees fur u*  
  
anna: I weel tael u a seekrit. al deedn't luuk eethr. I noe, cuz I deedn't luuk, I wuz luukin at al noet luukin. *smuuch*  
  
leail: LEAIL!!LEAIL!! Dis iz a guud haebit! I em an elf worrier, oef koarse I wuzn't frytind! * wakz al en da bak tu hep her wid a sueddin koffin fiet* U okae, al? Hae leail, u wanna trie dat Pierate theeng agin? Luuk, laydeez, dere goez dat guey whoe theenkz he iz me! *poeyntz * *watez* *SNOEGZ U!!*  
  
Mickie: I sed I wuz noet frytind, I em an elf worrier. * stopz tu haelp al agin* al, u reely nead tu taek sumptin fur dat koff. I steel wanna driev da Beeg Broewn Truk misef. *duz da NASCAR veekturee daense, jest fur praktise*  
  
Chan: Mae govannen, nin mellon! Wekkum! Hae, eberybuddie, luuk whoe'z hear! Chan! al tryd dat Sea Pee Ar thaeng wonse, buet Yaes Deer woen't leat us praktise no moer. OOeeehhh, al, she kaeld me lend caun edhellen! And you ARE, nin caun, you are!! *blueshiz an bloewz u a keez! *  
  
Tifa: I meesed u! Glaed u seant me a ledder dis tiem. Tifa wuld bea a guud name fur a keetin, u noe? *huegz*  
  
Michelle: Naew, u shueldn't bea uep oen a titeroap if u doen't like hitez. We kin eat da kaendee oen da grownd jest fien. *paessiz u sum Hearsheez Keesiz*  
  
Anja: Oeh, doen't krie! *haendz u teeshuez * Oeh, whin wimin krie it jest taerz me tu peesiz! We weel all take guud kaer of al, u weel sea! *seandz u sweat keesiz*  
  
bored2death: Whur deed u puet ur tonsilz? Kin u git dem bak? Due u nead dem? Dat guey whoe thaeknz he iz me kin't fite neer az guud wid a sord as I kin wid my wite nifz. He'z leerning tho. Ar u deeluerkin? Guud tu sea u! *skweezez u*  
  
JaguarKitty2006: I proemis tu protek al. I thot I deed perty guud dis tiem, deed u? **beeg hueg fur u*  
  
Elleth na Ilivren: al, wuz I seaxy whin I wuz taeking kaer of u? Yes, nin caun, many women would find that sexy and highly desirable, I might add. * blueshiz* Hannon le, Elleth na Iluvien! *keesiz u*  
  
ren: Luuk, al, anuthr neu faengurl! * reedz reeveiw* Iz she laffin at me?? No, turn off the toaster, she was laughing at ME, dear (whew, THAT was close!) She kaeld me Legolas da Kuewt! I feal like Ruewdoff da Raed Nozed Raindear! *poences oeff showteeng "I'em Kuewt! I'em kuewt!" *  
  
Dunrosiel: Ebery dae at al'z IZ a fuennie koemedie. U shuld all coem liv heer. *cueddlz*  
  
Laura: Hannon le fur da huegz an keesiz. al tryd tu git mien tu, buet I keapt won of eech an gav her da raest. Is dat okae? *huegz an keesiz u cuz I nead a reafeel*  
  
Katani Petitedra: * faenz u wid my haendz* Qwik, al, git her sum choklit! Dat owta breeng her around. . . it wurkz fur u!  
  
Irena: DERE SHE IZ, al! SKWEEEE!!! IRENA! IRENA! I em soe glaed I sean ya! Ur leepz ar a dreema, IRENA! Keez me, kwik! *kloeziz eyez an wates pashuntlee*  
  
939597: Wael, Hae Hae! Soe glaed u joynd us! I aelwaez lub it whin sumwon neu ketches uep wid da raest. Keap reedin, I proemis u weel eanjoey it! An hoew deed u git ur name?? *beeg hueg fur eaffurt fur u!*  
  
Aranel: Oeh, I LUB dat soeng! * daensiz an seengz "Neu wae tu waelk" like da peegiez jest fur u* Ar u goen tu bea da won whoe haz tu steek peepl? Da laydee whoe deed al wuz very nise heer. Thaenz fur da buebbilz!  
  
Lady Peredhel: I doen't noe whut tu due at da heelerz eethr, eggsept whut I deed wid al. Hueminz an elfz due hav sum theengz alik. * ketchiz keesiz, duezn't menashun whut haeppinz beahiend da trea dis tiem. . . *  
  
JavaGlxy: Ada duzn't noe al az weal az I due. He wuz vary guud at hepin me whin I goet huert as an elfling tho. I laernd muech frum heem. He iz taekin kaer of JastaElf noew. *skweeziz u*  
  
Holly :o) : Ur Ada haed 3 at da saem tiem?? * fayntz* *krawlz bak en chaer* Datz aloet of payne. Deed he miess da paertie? *huegz fur u*  
  
Anon: PP iz an all powerful whizzerd at beata reeding. al duz a lot of beata reeding tu, an sumtiemz we git beahiend oen uepdaetz whin she haz aloet of dem. al sez e-male her-she'z goet a loet of deert fur u-I dunno whut dat meenz. *cueddlez u*  
  
PuterPatty: PP!! PP!! Hav u tryd deze Huennie Nuet Chekz? * paessiz u a haendfuel* *pawzez* *puellz u bak an sneefz beahiend ur eer* Wate a minit. . . *sneefz boexz of Chekz* Of koarse u hav! Hoew seelie of me! *Nuezzlz u bak. . . * Deze chekz muest bea sum foarm of elbin afro-dee-zeaak. . .* nuezzlz moer, an den. . . .*  
  
Stimpy aka Amber: Noe Intreneat fur a hoel munth??*shueddrz* Hae, I culd due a haendstaend ooen toep of a stak of chaerz I bet. . . Ur moem soewndz alot like al! *seandz u a beeg kees*  
  
Cara 6: I thot dat nuers wuz goenna steek ME! I em steel noet tu shur it wuz noet an eevil whizzard dat puet a spael oen al. Dey ar sneaky u noe! Deed u speen arond like me wid ur leedle wite nifz? Doen't furgit, I wuld neber uze da wite nifz oen Araporn, soe u doen't git Andy bie akksideant, okae? Noe ER veesitz fur u tuu. Tuu skeerie! *seandz sum XOXOXOXO's tu u!* Giv a hie-fiev tu Andy 8 fur me, okae??  
  
Campy Oh: Owr hoespiteel iz taen an yaello an grean ensied. Dose ar guud kulurz I theenk. al sez we mite goe tu da Magik Keengdum beafoar I goe bak tu Meedle-erth-I hoep soe!! *snuegglz fur u*  
  
Arilyn: Aiy!! Weaddeengz! Aiy!! al kin tael sum talez abot her weaddeeng wid Yeas Deer. Maebee won dae she weel rite dem up-I weel axz her. *hearz a kees tu git u threw*  
  
The Two Princesses: Wekkom bak oenlien! I theenk u hav sum vary guud kwestshunz hear. I weel ax al tu anser dem en da nekz chaeptr, okae? I em vary saed tu heer u haed tu hav a neadl, an I em glaed al deedn't miend it soe baed! I doen't noe whut I wuld hav dun if I haed tu hoeld her doewn- she'z stroeng! Giv M a hueg an a keez fur me, an hears sum moer XOXOXOXO's fur u tuu! *XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO*  
  
bizzy: *hearz a smuuch fur u* al haz goettin vary used tu dis I gess. I hoep I neber hav tu sea her like dat agin. She'z a tuff ole cuuky. *dukz az al tryz tu wak me*  
  
Digital Jessie: Sorree we skaerd u. al sez tu tael u sum druegz ar okae an guud tu taek-if ur Doktur sez tu taek dem. * keesiz u wile al iz steel oen dat meadisin an aent luukin. . .*  
  
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Ok, there you go. Everyone happy with their fix of "Legolas Lub" this week?? I've started working on Chapter 9 already, so don't get left out! Click the little button, and tell us you were here!  
  
See you next time!  
  
Namarie, eberybuddie!! 


	9. Hey, Legolas

A/N: Thanks to all of you who have sent get well notes and best wishes. I hope you are getting a kick out of this. Laughter really is the best medicine, you know? I figure if you can laugh about something, no matter how bad it seems to be, you are going to be ok in the long run. That's my theory, and I'm sticking with it.  
  
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Chapter 9 Hey, Legolas  
  
Yes Dear and I exchange glances. "He said the right kidney," Yes Dear assures me.  
  
"Noe he deedn't," says Legolas. "I hav elf eerz, u noew."  
  
"Doesn't really matter anyway," I tell them both. "It isn't hurting anymore, and that's all that counts."  
  
We make it the rest of the way home without further incident, and together Yes Dear and Legolas manage to maneuver my drugged-up self into my warm, soft bed.  
  
Yes Dear leaves the Prance in charge while he goes to pick up Lil' Pip at school in my place. Of course, I don't know this until I wake from my state of inebriation with the uneasy feeling that someone is watching me. The sense comes to me a good while before I decide to open my eyes to investigate, and it's quite shocking to wake from complete oblivion to find a pair of deep blue eyes staring at me not three inches from my own.  
  
Startled, I pull back a bit. We must look like a pair of backward bookends, him lying on Yes Dear's side of the bed on top of the covers facing me, and me underneath facing him. It's not until I hear the snuffling sound that I realize he's asleep.  
  
"Hey, Legolas?" I whisper. The unfocused eyes snap to alertness as he instantly awakens.  
  
"al? U okae?" he asks, pushing up onto one elbow.  
  
"I'm much better now, thanks. What time is it?"  
  
He rolls over and sits up, looking at the digital clock on Yes Dear's side of the bed. "Tiem for Leedle Peep tu coem hoem frum skool," he says.  
  
As I leap up in a disoriented state of panic, he reassures me, "It'z okae, al. Yeas Deer weant tu git her."  
  
When Lil' Pip gets home, she's certainly not happy that Legolas got to go on "The Hospital Tour" and she had to stay at school. "Hey, Legolas, why didn't you come and get me?" she demands.  
  
"It wuz FUEN, Leedle Peep!" Legolas chimes in, not making anything better. "Der wuz dis majik doar, an al goet stuek wid dis grate beeg neadel, an diz beeg masheen tuk her pikshur widouwt her skeen oen!"  
  
"Momma, what's he blabbering about now?" asks Lil' Pip.  
  
"I had an IV in my arm and they took some X-rays, that's all. I'm all better now."  
  
We get through the evening without anything else of note happening, and I'm feeling well enough to think maybe the worst is over and I really did pass the stone already.  
  
Morning comes. Lil' Pip and Yes Dear head off to school and work while Legolas and I get our breakfast. Before long I'm back at the computer and he's parked in front of his beloved Pee Bea Ess. I head out a few hours later after giving him clear instructions that he is NOT to watch TV all day.  
  
Yeah, right. At least it makes me feel like I've tried to be responsible anyway.  
  
All in all, it turns out to be a normal sort of Thursday. We don't even have a lot of books to file at work, so I get in some extra time on my other projects. Before I know it, I've got just enough time to run home and get the Prance before school lets out.  
  
He's ready at the door, waiting to go. I swear riding in the car has got to be one of his favorite pastimes. We haven't even pulled out of the driveway before he's got the window cranked down and the radio cranked up. With his head hanging out and his blond hair flying in the breeze, he's serenading the neighborhood singing along at the top of his lungs with The Cars, "I Like The Night Life, Baby."  
  
"Hey, Legolas," I tell the back of his head, "one day a bug is gonna fly right up your nose while you're doing that."  
  
"Noe it'z noet!" he shouts back without pulling his head in. Seconds later there is a spluttering sound and he's suddenly back in the car, coughing his lungs out.  
  
"What happened?" I ask as I pound him between the shoulder blades.  
  
"Dat bueg weant rite doewn my throet!" he chokes out. "Bie da Valar, I swaelloed a bueg hoel!"  
  
Well, I won't say I told him so. . . .  
  
Lil' Pip is patiently waiting for us as we turn onto the school grounds and take our place in line to pick her up. Legolas, of course, hangs out the window and calls to her the second we pull into the line. It doesn't matter that there are twenty other cars in front of ours and that my white van is the only white van that ever picks up a child from this particular school. Every single day, he still unbuckles his seatbelt and sits on the windowsill, waving madly and screeching, "LEEDLE PEEP! LEEDLE PEEP! WE'AR HEAR!"  
  
Three-fourths of the school's population is still waiting to be picked up, and just about every one of them waves back, yelling, "Hey Legolas!" All except Lil' Pip, who puts the heel of her hand on her forehead in mock mortification. It's the same scene as always, just a different day. That is, until we get about eight car lengths from our turn to pick her up. That's when it hits me.  
  
The pain is back.  
  
The pressure is immediate, clenching my right side like an enormous cave troll has snatched me up and is taking a bite out of me. I grab my back with my right hand, fighting for breath as the waves of compression wash over me, almost rear-ending the car in front of us. I manage somehow to make it to the pick-up zone, and when Lil' Pip opens the door, I gasp out, "HURRY!"  
  
She leaps in, and we are off. My only hope is to make it to the house while Yes Dear comes to meet us there to take me back to the hospital again. Frantically, I search my book bag there on the floor between the seats, finding my cell phone and handing it to Legolas.  
  
"Call Yes Dear, quick!" I squeak out, forcing myself to concentrate on the road ahead.  
  
"I dunnoe hoew!" blurts the Prance.  
  
"I do!" shouts Lil' Pip from the backseat. "Gimme that!"  
  
In five minutes we are back in our driveway, but to me those were the longest five minutes of my life. Well, aside from the very last five minutes it took for Lil' Pip to finally make her entrance into the world some long ten years or so ago. Legolas helps me into the house, where I instantly hit the den floor on my knees, panting with the pain.  
  
Lil' Pip stands staring at me. "Momma, I don't know what to do!" she stammers. She's never seen me like this before in her whole life.  
  
"I due!" shouts the Prance. "I'll git it!" He leaves me where I have fallen and dashes to the bathroom. In seconds, he returns with a wet washcloth and the plastic trashcan, dropping onto his knees on the floor beside me and mopping my forehead while helping me hold the bucket.  
  
"Iz dat bedder, al?" he asks.  
  
"Thank you," I gulp. "Hey, Legolas, there's one more thing I need though," I ask him.  
  
"I'll git it!" he whoops, jumping up from beside me and darting off down the hallway before I can tell him my request. He comes bounding back in a flash.  
  
"Weel dese due?" he inquires, offering me the gift he holds in his hands. "Dey alwaez maek me feal bedder."  
  
The baby balrog britches.  
  
I manage a smile as I take them from him. I was actually going to ask for a pair of thick socks because my feet always get cold at the hospital, but this gift from the heart is even more warming than socks could ever be. He closes his eyes and then turns his back so I can quickly trade jeans for elastic waist pants. No more bumped IV's for me, not today with Prance Helpful on duty.  
  
Yes Dear arrives and loads us all back into the car for the ride over to the Emergency Room. When we pull up, he drops Legolas and me off while he and Lil' Pip go to park the car. Before I can make it all bent over to the revolving door, the desk clerk and two of the nurses rush outside to help me through the doorway.  
  
"Hey, Legolas," purrs the blonde nurse.  
  
"Mae Govannen, Mees Christina," he greets her with a smile and a nod of his pretty head.  
  
"I'm sorry you had to come back so soon," says the desk clerk. I notice that when she says this, she's NOT looking at me.  
  
"Dat's okae," he says, "buet thaenk u eniwae."  
  
The other nurse just smiles and blushes, ducking her head and batting her eyelashes.  
  
Prance Helpful indeed.  
  
In less than ten minutes, I have left my sample from the bathroom once again and am having my blood drawn for labwork by a rather handsome, awfully young thing while I squirm on the stretcher and try not to make him mess up. When he's finished bloodletting my arm of a grand total of four tubes, a nurse named Lisa comes in and has me lie down so she can start an IV in my left wrist, right by my thumb this time.  
  
Looking around so I don't have to think about what she's doing, I notice that Legolas is standing quietly beside the chair in the corner of the room, watching the blood pressure monitor that is periodically inflating on my arm. The one thing he's NOT doing is looking while I'm getting stuck. Smart elf, that one.  
  
After she gets the needle in, Lisa hangs the fluid bag and starts the IV dripping, then reaches into her pocket and pulls out the thing I've been waiting to see.  
  
Pain medicine. Oh yeah, baby. (c al)  
  
It's not long before I'm still feeling the squeezing pressure but not caring a lick about it. I open my eyes to find Yes Dear and Lil' Pip have made it to the room.  
  
"Feeling better?" Yes Dear asks.  
  
"Uh huh," I manage to slur.  
  
He laughs.  
  
A few minutes later, I open my eyes again to find I have drifted off for who knows how long. Lil' Pip has commandeered the chair-like father like daughter-and is vehemently reading away at her latest Nancy Drew novel. Yes Dear and Legolas are engaged in a rousing discussion of Peter Jackson's interpretation of 'The Lord of the Rings' on film versus J.R.R. Tolkien's books with a skinny little guy standing barely five feet tall.  
  
Lisa comes over to check on me. "Are they bothering you?" she whispers. "I didn't mean to begin a discussion, but when I asked about those pants you're wearing, I seem to have started something."  
  
"No, they're not bothering me," I answer truthfully. I think a herd of Oliphaunts could dance the tango on my bed right now and I wouldn't care. "I'm used to it."  
  
She smiles at me, and adds, "I haven't seen the movie yet. I did read the books though, and I like the idea that those are Balrog britches." She laughs and continues, "Tim is one of our nurses, and he's just crazy about the movie. He's a big Frodo fan." She pauses a second, watching the scene at the door, and says, "Personally, I've got the hots for Aragorn." She winks. "Now I'm gonna run them all out of here for awhile so you can rest, and so I can get a lick of work out of Tim."  
  
She moves to the doorway, shooing Tim off and suggesting a trip for supper in the cafeteria might be a welcomed break for my family. I can hear Lil' Pip's stomach growl from here at the mere suggestion of food. She's truly a hobbit at heart.  
  
After about 45 minutes, they come back. Legolas now is sporting a small brown band-aid on the back of his left hand.  
  
"Hey, Legolas, what happened to you?" I ask.  
  
"Dat masheen tuuk my kaendee!" he growls.  
  
I glance at Yes Dear and get a confirmation on this fact. He shrugs and tells me, "You really don't wanna know."  
  
Well, that doesn't matter, because Legolas decides he wants to tell me.  
  
"Dis iz hoew it haeppind," he begins. "We wear waelkin doewn da haell, an den. . . ."  
  
"Hey, Legolas, don't you want to start with 'Once Upon a Time'?" asks Lil' Pip, taunting him.  
  
"NOE," he says, glaring at her and starting over. "We wear waelkin doewn da haell, an den . . . ."  
  
It seems the gist of the story is that when they arrived at the cafeteria, it was closed to visitors, as only employees are allowed during the dinner hour. The three food hunters made their way to the vending machines instead, intent on getting a sandwich and a drink and some chips for supper. Once they arrived, they each selected their meal and sat down with their purchases to eat.  
  
All except Prance Helpful. But then you already expected that, didn't you?  
  
Prance Helpful decided that he didn't want a sandwich for dinner, at least not an egg salad or a ham and cheese or a turkey or a pimento cheese one. Prance Helpful decides he will hold out until the cafeteria reopens about an hour from now and get himself a real hamburger. The smell of the grill is still making his mouth water as he relates his version of the story to me.  
  
While he waits, he asks Yes Dear if he can have some money for a candy bar to tide him over. Not worried a bit about the Prance's appetite, Yes Dear forks over a dollar from his wallet. Legolas inserts the money into the machine's slot just like he does when he wants a Coke from the soda machine at the library where I work.  
  
"I wuz luukin at all da kiendz of kaendee dey hav," he tells me. "Dey haed Hearshee'z an Keet Kaetz an Aelmoend Joey an Meestr Guudbaerz an . . . ."  
  
"Mister Sweet Tooth had to have the M&M's," interrupts Lil' Pip.  
  
Legolas scowls at her. "Yeas, I deed," he growls, "buet dis iz MY stoeree."  
  
"Fine," she snaps back, lifting her hand to hide her giggle.  
  
He turns back to me. "Eniwae, I deesided tu git da M an M'z. Soe I pueshd da bueddon, an da M an M'z droepd doewn jest like dey ar 'spoez tu, buet dey goet cawght oen da leedle doar thaeng."  
  
He pauses, taking a deep breath.  
  
"Did you get them out?" I prod, trying to advance the storyline a bit.  
  
Lil' Pip and her daddy both let out matching giggles. Legolas ignores them.  
  
"I reechd my haend uep en dere tu trie tu git dem ouwt. Wile I wuz reechin. . . ."  
  
"His girlfriend came in," announces Lil' Pip.  
  
"She'z NOET my gurlfraend!" retorts Legolas, clearly becoming irritated.  
  
"This red-headed nurse comes in and she says, 'Hey, Legolas,' all soft and whispery-like. You shoulda seen him jump, Momma!" hoots Lil' Pip.  
  
"Her naem iz noet 'Dis Nuers'. Her naem iz Shannon," he defends.  
  
"Shannon?" I ask from my position on the bed.  
  
"Yaes,. Mees Shannon. She wurkz en Eggs Rae." He makes a face at Lil' Pip and then rolls his eyes at the ceiling. "Eniwae, az I wuz saein, I wuz reechin tu git my M an M'z ouwt, an Mees Shannon caem en. She deedn't hav enuf muney fur a dreenk an a kaendee baer, soe I sed she culd hav sum of my muney if she culd git it ouwt."  
  
"The money, or your hand?" I ask, not sure I am following this tale clearly.  
  
"Da muney!" he snaps, exasperated.  
  
I picture him squatting down in front of the vending machine, left arm extended into the clear plastic drawer at the bottom, fumbling about trying to grasp a bag of M&M's while a very pretty red-headed female in a low cut top and a really short white skirt wearing absolutely non-sensible heels bends way over and tries to dig fifty cents out of his pocket. This is sooooo not working for me.  
  
"So what happened?" I ask, hoping to dispel THAT visual.  
  
"Weel, I skootid ovur soe she culd git da muney ouwt of da masheen whur I haed leaft it, an whin I deed, my aerm goet stuk."  
  
Somehow, this visual is only slightly better.  
  
"Tell her what happened next, Bumble," Lil' Pip crows.  
  
"I culdn't git ouwt, soe Yeas Deer weant tu da bafruum an goet sum soaep an reechd en dere an tryd tu sliek my aerm uep soe it wuld coem ouwt."  
  
He pauses, looking at the floor. "Dis iz soe embareassing," he mutters.  
  
"What else happened?" I ask.  
  
"Weel, dat deedn't wurk, soe Mees Shannon caeld da seekuratee gard maen. He tryd puellin oen me, buet dat deedn't wurk eethr."  
  
"And. . . ?" I beg, not willing to wait any longer for the end of this story.  
  
"Momma, you're not gonna believe THIS! The security guard called the maintenance man. He brought a screwdriver and had to take the whole front of the machine off to get Prance Helpful loose," howls Lil' Pip, clearly overcome with the giggling fits at this point.  
  
"An whin I fiennalee goet my aerm bak, I haed a cuet oen my haend," pouts the Prance.  
  
"Miss Shannon fixed it up with a band-aid and a kiss!" snorts Yes Dear, joining Lil' Pip in her laughing spell.  
  
Prance Helpful just hangs his head.  
  
Half an hour later they have gone back to their previous positions, with Lil' Pip in the chair reading away and Yes Dear in the hallway talking with someone at the desk about discharging me. The elven archer stands silently at the foot of my bed, eyes once again on the blood pressure monitor. I suppose he's using it as some sort of substitute TV.  
  
"Hey, Legolas? What happened to the M&M's?" I ask, since it's evident I'm the only human here still playing with a full deck. Well, sort of a full deck.  
  
"I gav dem tu Mees Shannon," sighs Prance Helpful.  
  
Now THAT'S my boy.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A/N: Thank you, PuterPatty, for the use of your brain to beta in and out the commas, and for the cave troll and the Oliphaunts. And I promise to make him wear 'it' every time we go near 'Mees Shannon', though I fear she may be the least of our worries.  
  
Now, what you've all been waiting for:  
  
Lub Ledderz frum Legolas  
  
Fadesintothewest: al wuld taek caer of me da saem wae. I deed feegur ouwt dose doarz, u hav tu rueb ur haendz tu waerm dem up beafour u waev dem, datz all. *keez!*  
  
daw the minstrel: Doze straechur theengz ar noet dat beeg, an al likz tu taek up da hoel theeng. I haed tu sit kloes soe I deedn't fael off. Bie da Valar, u deedn't sea whut haeppind whin I tryed tu foeld al'z klothz, deed u? Oeh, deer Eru. . . . *blueshiz*  
  
Lady Silence: I peek da eyez oeff furst soe I doen't hav tu luuk at da eyez wile I eet da buennie. Trie dat. I hav a spaeshul soeng fur u tudae: *AHEAEM* Haeppie Burfdae tu u, Haeppie Burfdae tu u, Happie Burfdae, Uber Goddess, Haeppie Burfdae tu u! *Keez!*  
  
Nilmandra: Well, I wuz waerin da tael, buet u kin't sea it en da pikshure. I haed tu taek da leedle boe tye oeff cuz it wuz maekin da skeen oen my nek raed. Keez me agin? *smuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuch!!!*  
  
Elleth na Ilivren: My haendz muest hav goettin koeld wile I wuz waevin dem, cuz whin I waermd dem uep bie ruebbin dem tugethur, it wurkd muech bedder. I lub u tu! *hueg*  
  
Katani Petitedra: Ar u okae? Dat wuz a straeng maessag u leaft me. . . .* huegs u*  
  
TreeHugger: Yaes Deer sez he haz tawt me da oenlee majikal taelint he noez, an dis iz it: *BUERRRRPPPP!!!!* Da juegglin laessunz dat I goet frum da kloewnz caem in haendee, deedn't dey? I doen't thaenk enibuddie saew a thaeng, weel, 'sept maebee daw. . . .*huegz u*  
  
JastaElf: Kin't luuk, kin't luuk, lin't luuk. . . *luukz eniwae* **THUD!** Legolas?? You'd think he'd grow a bit immune after a while, but no. . . .*fans Prance, pats his cheek and watches as his eyes do a slow roll back from inside his skull* You ok now? Hueh? Oeh, yaeh, okae. . . .*krawlz baek en chaer* Hae, Ada! Hae, Jasta! Ada, I neber sed ur laftur wuzn't noermul, at leest fur u it'z noet. Sumbuddie hueg da Keetin Keeng fur me, okae? Im mel le tu u bof! *throewz keesiz*  
  
Lil' Pip: *foendlz peenk deesco baell* Tea Hea!! I noe a seekrit!! *seengz "Nite Feaur, Nite Feavur" *XOXOXOXOXOXOXO!*  
  
SarWolf Snape: We deedn't meen tu skaer u laest tiem. I gav al won of ur huegz an she sed it maed her feal muech bedder. Hearz anuthr won fur u *huegz u bak*  
  
SperryDee: Ar da baybeez hear yaet? Ar dae hear yaet? *wreegglz en eggsitemint* It wuld bea an hoenur tu hav a Naez-bueenie named aftur me! *skweez*  
  
JaguarKitty2006: I maek a guud protektur, doen't u theenk?! *keez fur u tu keap*  
  
IRENA: DERE SHE . . . MMMmmmmmgh! *Gaespz!* WOAH, BAYBEE! Weel, I deed git en a loet of trubel wid da peenk teaddie wonze, buet DAT iz anuthr stoerrie. . . .  
  
Davan: Wealcoem! We ar soe glaed u raed owr stoerrie! Whoe due we hav tu thaenk fur taelling u abot me? (al, she kaelld me daerleeng! And adorable too, Legolas, look! An praescius, an sweat, an deasperaet. . .wate, noe she sez SHE iz da won whoe iz deasperaet. . .) Hannon le tu u tuu, nin mellon! *keesez an huegz u*  
  
Chan: al iz fuennie whin she taekz dese druegz. She doezn't like dem muech tho. Iz ur bak bedder yaet? I hoep soe. I weel giv u a geantl *skweez* tu maek it bedder, okae?  
  
Anon: Deed al reemembur tu seand u sum diert? I saew her deegin en da gaerdin da othr dae. . . . My hare iz bloend, an en huemin tearmz it iz Loereal Paeris Soopereame Praeferince Eggstrae Bage Bloend # 9 ½ A. Jest en kase u waentid tu noe. *keez fur u*  
  
anna: deed u sea dat tu? (Bie da Valar, Legolas, u muest bea moer kaerful nekz tiem!) *hueg an keez fur u*  
  
amber aka stimpy: Weel, whut due u uzuelly due wid launjerie? *weenkz*  
  
Holly :o ) : We hav tuu muech rayne hear. It'z nutheeng like laest suemmur. I hav payntid wid da waderkulurz uenteel I kin't thaenk of enitheeng ealse tu paynt. *smuuuchez u*  
  
bored2death: I em glaed u doen't nead ur toensilz bak. *keesiz u* Ueh, al'z launjerie? (Daeng, eberybuddie saew dat!) I uehm. . . I aeh. . . *al wheesperz en my poyntid eer* Dat'z rite! I FOELD it. Yaeh.  
  
VladimirsAngel: U mite bea en truble bie da tiem DIS aedveanshur getz toeld. I weel bea dere fur u, mellon-nin, it iz da leest I kin due. *greanz* I wuld LUB a peenuet M an M. An ur GUUD, baybee, REEL GUUD. *Beeg keez!*  
  
Michelle: Roalrkoestrz? Whut'z a roalrkoestr? Iz dat like da leedle theng u puet uendr ur dreenk, buet it goez uendr ur roal ensted? *huegz u*  
  
Dragon-of-the-north: Hoew whur ur eggzamz? *swealz uep frum ur praeziz oen my protektur abeliteez, an geevz u a keez* I FOELD da launjerie, okae??  
  
Lady Peredhel: Foreasty Grean? Hmm. . . dat duz souwnd like it wuld koempleemint my pearsonel kulurz wael. . . I weel hav tru thaenk abot da laese tho. . . .Hmmm. . .hoew abot rite hear?? *sweapz u oeff ur feat wid a moest braethtaekeeng keez*  
  
ren: If u weel skwee like dat ebery tiem, I weel seand u a lub ledder ebery chaeptur, okae?? I due hav neemble feengurz, coem hear an leat me shoew u. . . *puelz ue entu my eambrase*  
  
Mickie: I saew doze leedle karz at Sonic. Dey deedn't hav a beeg broewn truk, tho. al haed a reely guud Muthrz Dae, a leedle laet buet dat iz anuthr chaeptr steel tu coem. . . .*huegz an keesiz u bak!!*  
  
Newmoon: I theenk haelf my paeranoya proeblemz ar frum Yaes Deer an heez eggspanashunz abot Modren-eryh. Sumtiemz he iz soe fuel of . . . nebermiend. *smuuch!*  
  
Laura: Due I hav tu waer a nuers unefoerm tu ber al'z nuers whin she comez hoem? I deed like dat toep dat Robin wuz waerin wid da teaddie barez oen it. Yaes Deer iz steel geeglin abot gittin a hueg an a keez. . . *keesiz u agin!*  
  
Digital Jessie: al sed dat whin Leedle Peep wuz boarn, it wuz at Thaenksgeeving, an al haed bedder fuud at da hoespitul dan poar Yaes Deer goet at hoem dat dae. Az loeng as I doent' hav tu eet da jaello, I doen't miend. *huegz u tite*  
  
Arienna DyBane: Mae Govannen! Thaenkz fur joynin us, or at leest fur deeluerkin if u have bean owt dere fur awile. Da tweenz? Oeh, yaeh, baybee, (c Legolas) I noe da tweenz. Figwit'z reel naem iz Bret, buet moestlee we kael heem Kato. *huegz u*  
  
PuterPatty: Hae, Baybee!! Laedee Peredhel oefferd a foerist grean, whut hav u goet? Az fur da kwikneas an da moovee, I wuz tryen tu leat Araporn luuk guud, buet he kin bea sooooooe sloew! Sumtiemz I thot it mite bea bedder laet dan neber, waetin oen heem. MMmmmm. . . Iz dat Hunney Riese Chekz ur waerin? *nuezzlz* leatz due it agin. . . * duez it agin*.*TWIECE*  
  
MagicalRachel: Weel, I gess it reely IZ fuennie, izn't it? Dat raedeeologee laedee wuz abot tu kaerv a hoel en my heart, an al wuz en noe shaep tu deefeand me. Noet dat I neaded eni hep, buet. . . . Datz okae, I puet da moevz I leernd frum Deer Ada oen her. . .dat'l teech her tu meass wid a Thranduilion. *snegglz u*  
  
Skye Rocket: Bie da Valar! Luuk who'z bak!!! Hae, Skye Rocket!!! I hav meesed u sumptin turribel. *beeg heg fur u!*  
  
Arilyn: Oeh Boey! A weaddeeng! Whin iz da beeg dae? Deed u git a perty draess? An floewrz? An a kaek? Iz it chokolit??? Beast Weeshiz tu u-I wanna here all abot it! **keesiz u fur luk**  
  
Sigil Galen: OMG!! al, luuk, Sigil iz shie! Jest like me!! *blueshiz* An she haz a kruesh-oen ME!! *faentz* Oehhh. . . *I'em tuu shie tu kees her, tuu shie tu kees her. . . NOET! **KEESIZ U!!**  
  
Anja: I em tryen tu taek guud kaer of al. She kin bea a deeficult pashunt. She sez tu tael u thaenkz fur bean dere fur her an seandin her doze geat weal noetz. *elbin lub nuzzle fur u*  
  
CampyOh: Weel, eberybuddie likez tu hav a leedle muney, buet peepl maek meestakez sumtiemz. Da empoertint thaeng iz dat eberybuddie haz bean taeking vary guud kaer of al. Hearz a keez fur u-doen't sael it oen E-bay, u here? *Kees*  
  
Angaloth: Iz ur aenkl okae? Whut haeppind? DATZ IT! I nead tu sae "Mellon" an da daor weel oepin! Whie deedn't I thaenk of dat?? Weel, proebablee fur da saem reezons I deen't theenk of it en Moria, buet dat'z anuthr stoeree. . . *huegz u* Hannon le!  
  
Aranel: HaeHaeHae! Dose soengz due teand tu steek en ur haed, doen't dey!? *skweezes u* I deedn't noe she haed hied da thaeng doewn en her shert, oer I wulda bean moer kaerful! Dat wuz embareassing. . . . Thaenkz fur da cuukeez! *muenchiz*  
  
The Two Princesses:I em glaed u e-maled me. Woew-U hav ur oewn aedriss? Kooel! Yaes Deer iz a teeze-he peastz me all da tiem. Tael M I FOELD da launjerie, dat'z all. Jest FOELD it. Spael dat F-O-E-L-D, no N oer D en da meedle. I deed noet git eggz raed, da laydee wid da feengrnaelz maed me goe ouwt en da haellwae wid Yeas Deer. Hearz sum moer *XOXOXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXO* 's fur u tu shaer, giv sum tu M tuu!  
  
leail: LEAIL! LEAIL! LEAIL! LEAIL! Deed u nead sum hep wid foeldin ur laundree tu? Hav u eber saet oen da waeshr whin . . . LEGOLAS!!. . .oeh, soerrie al! Eniwae, embareassed, noet skeerd, dat'z me. It'z a guud theeng oenlee u an daw an Tree an Irena an anna an amberakastimpy an bored2death an Dragon-of-the-north an Lady Peredhel an ren an PuterPatty an Aranel saew dat. U ar kwite rite, dis aen't ober yaet. . . *snoegz u agin wile PP is luukin fur sumptin tu oeffir*  
  
Cara6: U shuld goe tu veesit da hoespitael won dae. Dey have masheenz wid kaendee en dem, an da geeft shoep haz all kiendz of thaengz. I like da beeny baybeez misef. *huegz u*  
  
Andy8: Woew, Cara6 sed u broek ur aerm! Deed dat huert? Deed u git an eggs rae tu? I weesh I culda sighnd ur kaest. Woew! *shaekz ur haend Rohirrim hoersmaen stile*  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Iz dat eberybuddie, al?  
  
I hope so, Legolas. It's time to get busy writing up the next part of this story.  
  
Don't forget to send us a note and let us know you were here! We love hearing from you, including what you are up to as well as what you think of our latest adventures. Welcome to all the newbies, and thanks for being there to all the regular 'faenguerlz" and regular readers who are not 'faenguerlz'.  
  
We hav doez, al?  
  
Heh. . . yes, nin-mel, you have lots of both. 


	10. More Than a Belly Full

A/N: In case you haven't figured it out yet, some names have been changed to protect the innocent. Some names have not been changed, but that doesn't mean you are no longer innocent, just that I got tired of making up fake names for real people. If you see someone who looks like you and talks like you but isn't named after you, it probably IS you. But then, it might not be you either. Who can tell?  
  
Chapter 10 More Than A Belly Full  
  
Since all they're doing at this point is sitting around staring at the walls while they wait to spring me from this joint, Yes Dear, Lil' Pip, and Legolas decide to visit the hospital gift shop. Legolas still hasn't had his hamburger, so they decide to hit the cafeteria once again on the way back.  
  
While they're gone, I have a nice, good, quiet nap topped off with a visit from my friendly Emergency Room physician, Dr. Baughman. She says that when the gang comes back, I can go home, providing I agree to see a specialist about my problem in the morning. She gives me the name and number of a local urology group, and tells me if I need to come back during the night it's ok to do so.  
  
Lisa comes back in to take out my IV, and she gives me a tiny little white colander-looking thing to take home with me. It's a little personal strainer, so that I can try and catch the stone. If I can catch it, then they'll know for sure it's out and gone.  
  
It isn't long before I hear footsteps approaching my bed. I look up to find the three gift and food hunters standing at the foot of the stretcher. Lil' Pip is scowling, Yes Dear is smirking contentedly, and Legolas is rubbing his belly the same way I used to when I was eight months along with Lil' Pip.  
  
"What's going on?" I inquire.  
  
There is a very pregnant pause. Yes Dear looks out the door and down the hallway, Lil' Pip continues to scowl at Legolas, and the Prance looks down at his rounded belly, firmly supported for the time being with a hand on each side.  
  
"Well?"  
  
"I theenk dey hav vary guud haembuergrz hear," says a quite satiated Prance.  
  
"Good French fries too, huh Legolas?" prods Yes Dear. There's nothing innocent about the way it's phrased, though he tries to make it sound honest enough.  
  
"Yaeh, da Freench fryz ar guud tuu," remarks the Prance, continuing to rub as he looks up to meet my gaze.  
  
"Go on," pushes Lil' Pip, giving Legolas an elbow in the ribs. "Tell her what you did this time."  
  
"Buet I deedn't due enithaeng!" moans Prance Helpful.  
  
Yeah, and I've got some swampland in Arizona I'll sell you real cheap too. It's a good place to get rid of your allergies.  
  
When they get finished dickering with each other, Lil' Pip finally spills that our Prance decided the burgers and fries were the most delicious thing he'd tasted since arriving in Modren-erth, and by the time he finally decided to call it quits on the evening meal, his tally of hamburgers, fries, and the appropriate condiments totaled four orders of each. Not only that, but he topped that off with a slice of homemade apple pie a la mode and a piece of 'Grandma's Chocolate Cake'.  
  
Geez, no wonder he's rubbing like he's only one month from delivery. It'll take him a month just to DIGEST all of that.  
  
"I haed Mowntin Deuw tu dreenk," he adds, his hand going round and round on his pot belly. "U foergot dat."  
  
"Take me home," I plead.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The night once again passes uneventfully. I wish I could say the same for the kidney stone. No longer the severe pressure and cramping pain, today I have a nagging little sharp spot on the front of my right lower belly.  
  
Yes Dear and Legolas drive me to my appointment with the urologist while Lil' Pip is at school. The other patients in the waiting room get irritated at me because I'm pacing the floor. Not because I'm nervous, mind you - I have a degree in one of the medical support specialties and I'm quite familiar and comfortable in a doctor's office. It's actually a symptom used to properly diagnose a kidney stone versus something like appendicitis. You see, the appendicitis patient holds rigidly still, having more pain when she moves around. The kidney stone patient can't find a comfortable position to save herself, and moves about constantly. We're restless, irritable, grumpy. . . everything you really don't want to have to deal with in a person having pain. In short, we ARE a pain.  
  
Finally, the nurse calls my name to come to the back. She directs me to the bathroom first to leave my customary sample. Legolas stands outside the door, making his little grunts of disgust and his animated faces at how vile he finds the whole idea of peeing in a little cup. Yes Dear ignores us both, perusing the latest copy of "Men's Health".  
  
I've brought my X-rays from the hospital, and when my doctor (I'll call him Dr. Henry) comes in, he shows the three of us the cause of all my woes. Sitting in the very end part of the little tube called the ureter that runs from my right kidney to my bladder, wedged in tight as a tick, is a little round white spot. A calcification, if you will, for clarification. The lowly kidney stone.  
  
"Well," I announce, quite pleased that someone has finally verified that I'm NOT making all of this up, "only an inch to go, right Doc?"  
  
Dr. Henry doesn't look too pleased. He sits and thinks a moment, clears his throat, gets a little closer to the X-ray view box, flips through my chart, and clears his throat again. About the time I'm starting to think he's charging by the hour, he announces, "Well, that's the narrowest part."  
  
Yeah, but it's the shortest part. I've done the long haul already, having managed to move the little rock-like object about a foot already, with what looks to me like only about one measly inch to go. From previous experiences, I know that once the stone gets to the bladder, everything's enlarged enough to be home free.  
  
"What do you want to do?" Dr. Henry asks.  
  
I glance at Yes Dear. Frankly, I thought we were paying Dr. Henry to tell ME what to do, not vice versa. Yes Dear shrugs his shoulders and reaches over to whack Legolas, who is staring unabashedly at the pictures of human anatomy on the walls.  
  
"Knock it off, "I hear my hubby whisper.  
  
"Soerrie," mumbles the Prance.  
  
"I want to be done with this whole adventure," I answer. "I just want to pass the little sucker and get on with my life."  
  
Dr. Henry just sits on his chair and looks at me.  
  
Yes Dear comes to the rescue. "Does she have a decent chance to pass it, Doc?" he asks.  
  
Dr. Henry sits a minute more, and then looks again at the X-ray hanging on the view box. "Well," he says, "it's a borderline stone."  
  
"Oh, good!" I hear myself say. One more good battle with a bit of pain involved, and I can push the little sucker right over the borderline and be done with it. Just like I did during my last contraction when I was having Lil' Pip.  
  
Yes Dear hears it differently, of course. That's why I bring him to these things. "What do you mean by 'borderline'?" he inquires.  
  
"Well," Dr. Henry begins, "the stone would measure about six millimeters in size. Most of the stones that pass on their own are six millimeters or less. Most that pass do so within the first 48 hours."  
  
"Does that mean she more likely needs surgery?" asks the ever practical better half of me. I just give him a glare. Been there and done that once before for a stone, and not anywhere keen on doing it again. EVER.  
  
Dr. Henry just sits on his little chair and looks at me.  
  
I glance over at the Prance, since he's being awfully quiet. He's currently comparing my own anatomy on the X-ray with the anatomically correct drawings on the wall.  
  
"Will you KNOCK IT OFF!!!" I snap.  
  
"Oeh.. Soerrie, al!" he apologizes.  
  
Finally, Dr. Henry decides the 'making a decision' ball is in his court. "I think you could try on your own for a few more days, if you want to.," he says.  
  
"Good enough," I say, hopping down from the exam table.  
  
". . .but I only do surgery on Mondays, so I think we should go ahead and schedule you for the pre-op visit at the hospital for your blood work and things," he concludes.  
  
Right. Like I am so gonna need that after I go straight home and drink a lake full of water and spend the rest of the evening pushing to get this little homemade jewel out.  
  
"Sure," I hear my voice say.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Well, the day of my pre-op appointment finally arrives. I wish I could say the same thing about the kidney stone.  
  
Legolas and I head over to the hospital to my interview with the surgery team and to get my blood work done. I pull into the parking lot and find a space in the back row of the lot. Hefting my bookbag full of papers (I quit carrying a purse some time ago), the Prance and I make our way to the revolving door at the front of the building.  
  
On the way, Legolas develops a really strange cadence to his walking pattern. Sort of a step-step-step-PAUSE-head toss, step-step-step-PAUSE- head toss. . . . As we reach the revolving door, I have to stop as the next wing moves by before I can enter, and when I do, Prance Helpful runs smack into me. That's when I realize he's been preening himself in the mirrored glass lining the front of the hospital lobby.  
  
Of course, from his point of view outside the lobby, all he sees in the glass is his own reflection, beautiful as it may be. Inside the lobby, the people waiting on the other side of the glass are treated to a few last minute elven beauty techniques. I'm just thankful he doesn't adjust anything other than his hair.  
  
I drag him through the entrance as the next wing of the revolving door passes. As we step into the lobby, we're greeted by a rousing chorus of "Hey, Legolas!"  
  
The Emergency Room desk clerk and two of the ER nurses are waving on the right. The three ladies from the Registration staff are waving on the left. Sitting at the desk directly in front of us is a little gray-haired lady wearing a pink hospital volunteer coat, and standing behind the wheelchair parked beside her is a gray-headed man wearing a matching outfit. Together and on cue, exactly five seconds behind the previous chorus, they speak too.  
  
"Hello, Legolas!" they chime in harmony, his voice just a bit deeper but a perfect complement to her own soprano.  
  
"Welcome!" adds the man.  
  
I begin to wonder just how smashed I was the last two times we were here. I don't know any of these folks from Adam, and right now it looks like we've just entered the monthly meeting of our local chapter of the Legolas Greenleaf Fan Club. Admirers of all ages accepted.  
  
"Hullo, eberybuddie!" exclaims the Prance, smiling and waving like he's the next mayoral candidate. He announces to the gathering, "I browt al fur her bluud taest!" and without a pause he adds, "She'z bean dreenkin an pueshin, buet she'z steel all stoeppd uep!"  
  
Geez. Thanks to Prance Helpful, now the whole waiting room thinks I'm an alcoholic pregnant woman with some kind of terrible bowel obstruction.  
  
"I have an appointment for a pre-op workup," I whisper to the lady in the pink volunteer coat.  
  
"Sign in right here, dear," she answers. "I'll let the registration staff know you're here."  
  
Somehow I think that's already been taken care of.  
  
There's a bit of commotion happening at the three little cubbyhole desks in the Registration department. From here it looks a bit like there's some twisted form of the rock-scissors-paper game going on. The woman with the spiral-permed dirty blonde hair suddenly squeals loudly and raises her hand in the air in a victory salute. She then moves to the lobby side of the registration desk and pilfers the chair from her co-worker's space, squeezing it into the tiny space beside the one already in front of her own cubicle. She makes her way back behind the desk and sits in her chair before smiling and nodding to the gray-headed volunteer running the sign-in table.  
  
"I think Stacy's ready for you now," the volunteer lady announces with a bright smile.  
  
"Id wuz a plaezure eggspearienceeng ur hoespetalitee," purrs the Prance, taking the gray-haired lady's hand and placing a kiss on the back of it.  
  
"Oh, think nothing of it!" blushes the volunteer lady.  
  
He bows to the gray-haired man before following me over to sit in the chair on Stacy's right, leaving the one on the left for me. He stands royally and patiently until Stacy invites us both to sit down. Such character.  
  
Or is that such A character?  
  
I am a bit surprised at the first words out of his mouth. "Hoew'z da baybee, Mees Stacy?" he asks.  
  
She rubs her so far non-existent belly and replies, "Oh, how thoughtful of you, Legolas! The baby is doing fine, thank you for asking." She tosses a coquettish smile at him, and for a second there I wonder just how it is he has firsthand knowledge of the pregnancy. She can't be even 2 months along yet.  
  
Then she returns the subject at hand to my current need of the hospital and its services. She takes my insurance information and updates my statistical record-type things, then hands me a mass of papers to sign. So far nothing I didn't expect and haven't done before. Then the clincher.  
  
"Do you have a Living Will and a Power of Attorney?"  
  
My jaw drops. I hadn't even considered it. I mean, who dies while having a kidney stone removed? It's not even considered true surgery, more of just a procedure. Like an X-ray, or having your blood drawn.  
  
I glance over at Legolas. Who's gonna take care of him if something happens to me?  
  
I manage to answer her without giving away my sudden apprehension. I don't want Legolas to pick up on my newfound nervousness. He's sitting there quietly beside me, diligently trying to peruse the contract I have just signed, trying to make heads or tails of the tiny print.  
  
"Dis iz wurse dan da wonz my adar haz tu deel wid," he scowls.  
  
Stacy directs us back to the X-ray department first for an up-to-date film, and then says I'll need to go for my blood work from there. She stands and shakes my hand, then leans across the desk and gets a hug from Prance Helpful.  
  
Yep, I'm really starting to wonder about the two of them.  
  
We make our way past the ER desk and down the long hallway. Prance Helpful opens all the doors for me on the way, making sure to rub his hands together before sweeping them elegantly over the hydraulic opener in the top corner of each one.  
  
When we get to X-ray, he swaggers over to the desk and asks the receptionist, "Iz Mees Shannon wurkeen diz fien moerneen?"  
  
"Not today," comes her reply.  
  
"Hoew abot Mees Robin?" he inquires politely.  
  
"No, she worked yesterday," says the receptionist.  
  
He pauses a minute, considering this news quietly while trying to suppress his obvious disappointment. Finally, he leans over the desk, a touch of worry on his face, and whispers, "Hoew abot dat laydee wid da niecely manakurd bluud-read feengurnalez?"  
  
"Oh, yes, Vickie's here," she smiles at him, nodding.  
  
He gulps.  
  
We take our places in the tiny radiology waiting room, and Prance Helpful decides he will stay parked in place in his chair as soon as he sees it's Vickie of the blood-red nicely manicured fingernails that calls for me. He squirms a bit as she looks him over.  
  
"Do I know you?" she inquires, cocking her head and eyeballing him suspiciously.  
  
"I doen't theenk soe," he blushes, ducking his head and sliding down in the chair. Thankfully, she drops it and starts off down the hallway before I can try to introduce him.  
  
A few minutes later I'm back in the waiting room where I find Prance Helpful straightening up the magazines and pushing the chairs back against the wall, lining the armrests up perfectly. Thinking everything has gone way too smoothly, I find myself wondering what other mischief he has gotten into in my absence. When I pass the receptionist, I discover what's been keeping him busy.  
  
Her straight blonde hair, which had been hanging loosely from her head down to mid-shoulder, is now elaborately braided in an elven child's braid, similar to our own French braiding but even more intricate.  
  
"Thanks, Legolas!" she calls to him, waving.  
  
"My plaeshure, Mees Debbie!" he yells back.  
  
On to the lab. We enter a tiny little room with two phlebotomists and two tiny chairs. I take my place in the one that is straight back against the wall while Legolas chooses to stand at the door. There's the usual discussion about my lab card that gives me discounted lab work, and while the ladies confer about whether or not my report will come back soon enough, one of them hands me the usual and motions toward the door in the corner.  
  
Legolas makes faces like he's just eaten a raw persimmon. Or maybe a kosher dill pickle after sucking on a lemon. Hard to describe that particular look really. Elven disgust is so remarkably displayed when allowed to crack the surface of that stoic attitude he usually has.  
  
After leaving my urine sample on the shelf behind the little door on the wall in the bathroom, I come back to take my place in the bloodletting chair. Unfortunately for me, the phlebotomist picks a spot to stick me that is a bit on the painful side, making me jump in the chair when she inserts the needle this time. She attaches the first of the four tubes that she will take of my blood, and I watch as the deep red liquid flows to fill the first tube. She pops that one out of the holder and pushes the second one on. That's when I hear it.  
  
It's the sound of a tall, lithe, athletic body sliding down a door to the floor.  
  
"Annie, we got ourselves a fainter," says the other phlebotomist in a very calm, very cool manner. She goes over to the Prance and, placing her latex covered hand behind his head, slowly turns him and drops the rest of him to lie on the floor. She stands back up and moves to take her place between his splayed feet, lifting them up onto her tiny shoulders and getting his legs above his heart level.  
  
Annie doesn't even look back at what's happening. She finishes tube two and connects tube three.  
  
A few seconds later, Legolas starts to stir. The look of abject horror on his face when he realizes what has happened is priceless and, coupled with the shock of finding a stranger's head between his legs, he's soon springing rapidly up from the floor. He flattens himself against the door again, this time with his arms splayed along the wood.  
  
"Dat deedn't haeppin," he whispers. "U deedn't sea dat."  
  
"I didn't see anything," says the phlebotomist, in perfect harmony with Annie answering, "Nope, not a thing."  
  
"Guud," mumbles the Prance.  
  
Annie finishes me up, and we head down the long hallway toward the surgical interview room. This time it's my turn to get the doors.  
  
"I've been expecting you," says the nurse who escorts us back to the little office where they explain what time to be there and ask questions like what kinds of medicines you take on a regular basis. She motions for us to sit down, and pulls out a folder full of information for me to read and fill out and sign.  
  
She explains that I'm on the surgery schedule for three days from now, that I have to come in the afternoon, and that it will be very important not to eat or drink anything even though it will be a long time before I come in. Prance Legolas is currently going over all the fine print in the contracts for me. He choses this moment to interrupt.  
  
"Whut duz dis paert meen?" he asks, pointing with a long, thin elven finger to a clause at the bottom of the page. "Dis paert dat sez al weel noet hoeld da hoespeetal reespoensabil fur enithaeng dat mite haepin tu her?" He's getting a bit red around his ears and he's got a wild, challenging sort of look in his eyes. "Whut iz dis abot 'uenfoersean sirkumstaensiz'?"  
  
Uh-oh. Didn't plan on going there. Before the nurse can answer, he rises from the chair and blurts out, "Due u meen al kuld DIE frum dis theeng dat iz sueppozed tu feex her?" He's now standing with both palms placed flat in the middle of the desk, leaning over and into her half of the room. The contract he was reading now lies discarded on the desk between his hands.  
  
"Yes," she whispers calmly, not taking her eyes off him.  
  
He whirls to me, demanding. "U deed noet tael me dis!" he shouts in his frustration.  
  
I have no answers for him. I break eye contact quickly, unable to explain to him that these are things you must sign but that you just don't really try to think about.  
  
"It's very rare, but it is a possibility we must tell the patient about," says the nurse. "A person needs to know all the things that are involved to make the proper decision."  
  
He turns his angry glare from me to her, scowls and then sinks back into his seat, sulking and staring now at the wall.  
  
"Do you need a minute to think about this?" she asks me.  
  
"No," I answer. I've had the stone for four weeks now, and it was supposed to pass in the first couple of days. The concern now is that my right kidney is silently shutting down, letting the left one do all the work. There really isn't a test to see if this is what's really happening, and therefore my right kidney could be completely beyond repair without my ever knowing it, so the only thing to do is to go in and take the stone out. "I don't really have a choice now," I sigh.  
  
"Well, let's move on," she replies, smiling softly.  
  
She places a blood pressure cuff over my right arm and goes back to writing times and dates and instructions and things on the paper for me to take home as the machine pumps up and measures me automatically. Legolas, who normally can't pass up a machine of any sort, watches out of the corner of one eye, but feigns indifference. A few moments later, the cuff deflates and the machine registers its recording. Legolas snorts.  
  
"I theenk u woen da loettrie dis tiem, al," he says.  
  
The nurse looks up at the machine's digital dial and does a double take. She looks carefully at me, then blinks and looks at the dial again. She rises from her chair, saying, "Excuse me one moment . . . ," and leaves the room. In a few minutes, she's back.  
  
"I called the anesthesiologist. He says to ask you how long your blood pressure has been elevated, and to ask what medicine you're on to control it."  
  
"I'm not on any medicine for blood pressure. I don't take anything at all, except the pain medicine Dr. Henry gave me for this stone, and I only take THAT when I have to."  
  
"I need to call your family doctor then. You need to be seen today. We'll have to cancel your surgery Monday until you can get your blood pressure under control." Before I can ask anything further, she's out the door and gone again.  
  
If I wasn't nervous before, which I really didn't feel I was, I'm getting nervous now with all this rushing in and out of the room. When she comes back and tells me I can't be seen at the family practice until Tuesday, and that the anesthesiologist said to tell me NOT to plan on any emergency surgery until at least then either, I start to realize I really CAN hear my blood pounding in my ears.  
  
"What exactly IS my blood pressure?" I ask her when she finally stops rushing around and sits again. She's looking at me as if she hopes I'm planning on getting out of her office soon, before I have a stroke or something.  
  
Normal is 120/80. Mine is currently 183/124.  
  
Legolas picks up on the escalating emotion in the room. "Iz dat baed?" he asks, no longer angry and now with a very worried look on his handsome countenance.  
  
Walking stroke in action here, I don't have to have a nursing degree to know that. All I have to do is take a look at the woman's face across the desk from me.  
  
"Yes," she says softly to him. "That's very bad."  
  
He stares wide eyed at her for the longest time, then slowly turns his gaze to me. Breaking eye contact, Legolas sinks back down into the chair.  
  
"Dis iz aell my fawlt," he mumbles.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A/N: Big thanks to PuterPatty again for the fantastical beta services (yeah, Skye Rocket, I sort of like that word!) and thanks to all of you who have sent me well wishes. The story continues, and I have the next chapter already written. Fuss at the Prance for how long he takes to write these "lub ledders".  
  
Some of you had trouble sending a review this time. Please know that you can send it by e-mail if you can't get through on the regular review box at fanfiction.net. Just send it to alliwantisanelfforchristmas@hotmail.com and I'll make sure he gets it. Legolas is very careful to match up all his 'lub ledders', and half the reason for the delay is that he checks things two and three times, he's so afraid he'll leave someone out. A very conscientious fellow, our dear Prance Helpful.  
  
Also, you do NOT have to be a member of fanfiction.net to leave a review. Just click on the 'go' box beside "submit review", then type in whatever name you want to be known by in the box where it asks for your name. You do not have to leave an e-mail address. Type your 'love letter' to Legolas in the box that says "Review" and then click on 'submit review". It's that simple! (Hey, if LEGOLAS can do it, surely you can!)  
  
And now, what you've all really been waiting for:  
  
Lub Ledderz frum Legolas  
  
LEAIL!!  
  
SarWolfe Snape: I hoep u deedn't huert ursef whin u juempd like dat. *al, she sed I wuz kuet!! She said your STORY was cute, Prance. Noe she deedn't!!* I lub tu goe ober tu da hoespitel. I hav loetz of fraendz dere. *keesiz u oen da cheak*  
  
daw the minstrel: I em soe soerrie tu heer abot ur doeg. I em glaed dat I kin braeng bak guud meamuriez of sumwon u lubbed. I hav sumpting en my pokit fur u. . . *greanz*  
  
TreeHugger: U muest bea fealin reel guud rite noew frum getting all dat eggstrae oxagin wid all dat laffin u wear duien. Whut? Sumbuddie sed Lisa haz da hoetz fur Araporn? Whut iz dis deavilree? *snoertz an gloewrz* Wael. . . *croessiz aerms* Mees Shannon iz NOET my gurlfraend! (tho she duz have sum perty hare, an dose laegz. . . ! Mmmm. . . .) I saevd a *hueg* fur u.  
  
Sperry Dee: Are dey hear yaet? Are dey?? AR DEY?? I em soe eggsited! Due u nead me tu coem wach ur bak at jim klaess? *huegz u an keesiz ur booe booe'z*  
  
bored2death: I thaenk eben dose masheenz shuld hav sum kiend of wurk eathik. Eetin sumbuddie's muney an dere kaendie iz baed enuff, buet dat thaeng aet my aerm! I nead a kueddil *kueddil'z u*  
  
Lady Peredhel: Deed I mees sumpthaeng abot my maennerz 30 yeerz agoe? I em shur Ada weel bea pleezd whin he reedz ur noet of kongratulashunz. U noe, I thaenk da laese mite luuk guud - I weel hav tu trie it oen an sea - I meen, U trie it oen . . . *blueshiz!* Wate rite dere, doen't move a mussle *geeglz at u waetin dere, an wachez tu sea if u weel stae dere uentil nekz tiem. . . *  
  
Laura: I have gaerdend fur maeny yeerz. I haev feefteen tumadoe plaentz dis yeer, an dey ar jest tuernin raedish-peenk noew! Hannon le fur da hueg an keez oen my haend. . . it iz aelredy heeld uep, thaenkz tu u! *sweat keez fur ur cheak*  
  
Campy Oh: Stuek FOAR tiemz! Woew! Hae, doen't steek ur aerm en dere enimoer, okae? I hoep u ar fealin bedder frum huertin ur bak. U hav tu bea kaerful wid min, dey doen't noe whut dere doen haf da tiem. *givz u a beeg hueg*  
  
Digital Jessie: Riedin en da kar EZ like riedin oen a hoerse, an ur laegz doen't git tierd tho u steel git a nuemb buem sumtiemz ef u siet tuu loeng. U goet 2 kaendee baerz? Woew! *skweeziz u*  
  
Chan: I wuld like dat Meestr Beeg, hannon le *taekz it frum u an oepinz da rapper.* al'z addatued iz abot all she ha helthee rite noew. She usuaelie uzez da kalkoolador, an dat duz da addatuding fur her. *greanz*  
  
LEAIL! LEAIL!!  
  
Nilmandra: If u weel rueb my bak like dat agin, I weel ware enithaeng u waent, melamin. . . *puerrz. . . . roelz ober. . . straechiz. . .puerrz sum moer. . .watez fur u tu keez me. . . .*  
  
Lily Frost: I gess u culd git da haem an cheez an taek oeff da paertz u doen't like if u ar vaegin. U noe whut'z groass? Leamoenade aftur u uez da toofpaeste . . . Yuk! *snuegglz u*  
  
Dragon of the north: Hoew wuz ur eggzam? Hoep u deed guud! I em noet aengree. . . I jest kaen't bealeave hoew menny peepl saew me droep dat braw! *criengiz* U lub M&M'z tu? Woew! *kueddlz*  
  
Magical Rachel: al iz guud at diz riting thaeng beacuz she meatz aetean owt of nientean of da kryteeria fur bean a Maerrie Seuw. Da oenlee won she duzn't meat iz da won whur u hav tu die fuerst an koem bak. I theenk dere ar a buench of faengurlz hear oen Modren erth whoe like me. All eggsept da laedee wid da bluud raed feengurnaelz. *hueg an keez saevd jest fur u!*  
  
Holly :o) : Wael of koers it wuldn't wurk fur a huemin tu sleap wid her eyez oepin. Deed u git eni rayne yaet? Hoew duz da tiale luuk? I beat it iz az perty az u ar. *smuuch*  
  
Vladimir'z Angel: Hannon le fur da M&M'z, and da graepz and da dayzeez tu. al deed giv me a fuennie luuk whin I sed she culd eet da dayee. Dat iz whut u mint, izn't it? *skweeeze*  
  
Lina Skye: *al, I theenk she'z a faengurl. Definitely a fangirl, Prance. Most definitely.* *huegs u* Da Baybee Baelrog Briches ar deze blak pajaemae paentz of al'z wid yaello an raed flaemz all ober dem. I steel dem frum al'z draewer ebery chaence I git. Soe u hav da hoetz fur Araporn tuu? Bea kaerful maessin wid dat Arwen, she'll boep u ober da haed wid a shovel en a hartbeet. *shueddrz*  
  
Lady Silence: Kaek?? U'll seand me Kaek?? Whoooeee Hooooee! (c Celeborn) Whut kiend of kaek iz it? Germ-man choklit? Raed Vaelvit? Choklit swerl? Aenjil fuud? Straewbaerrie Shoertzkaek? *claepz haendz tugethur* WOEW!! Oeh, boey! *hoepz around an smielz reel beeg en eggsitemint!* *bloewz u a keez*  
  
Katani Petitedra: u goet stuek en a reefrijerador? Wear Winifred an Charles stuek en dere tu? Oer deed dey puesh u en dere? Deed dey hoeld da doar klozd? Shaem oen dem. *huegz u*  
  
Amber aka Stimpy: I lub tu wach E-lemon-date oen TV. Doze gueyz noe eberythaeng dere iz tu noe abot maekin a womin haeppie. OEWW! al! Dat huert! Doen't smak me like dat! I wuz jest kidden! I goet plaentee of elf- lubbin, baybee, hearz sum fur u! *givz u sum elf-lubbin*  
  
Michelle: Roellrkoestrz ar moer fuen dan titeroepz? WOEW! I kin haerdlee wate! *huegz u, den goez tu da daor an sietz, waetin wid aentisipaeshun*  
  
Angaloth: Ur noet laet. It sowndz like u ar vary beezy. Dat'z grate dat u goet oudda all ur eggzamz-u muest hav bean vary guud an vary smaert tuu! Leedle Peep caelz me Buemmbil aftur da Abuembinabul Snoemaen oen da stoeree of Rudof da Raed-noze Raindear. He bownsiz, u now. *huegz u*  
  
Anon: al seant u sum dert? I deedn't thaenk she liked dert-she spaendz all dae warshin kloez an doezn't hav a grean thuemb at all. I hoep ur flew iz all goen. Feal bedder suun! *bloewz u a keez*  
  
Caranwen: Waelkoem! Luuk, al, anuthr neu faengurl! *elf-skweee!* I em soe glaed u ar heer! *huegz an keeziz tu u!*  
  
Newmoon: U deedn't sea eni guelz, deed u? I doen't noe if I em reddy fur dat. al sez if u sea won flieng oberhaed, doen't luuk uep. *snueggl*  
  
Melkor's Drinking Buddy: *eyez u* Diskontint of uthurz? Maeddleeng Valar?? Paest gruedjiz? Huummmm. . . sownds eentristeeng. Due u draenk ur grean tee strate uep? *puetz 3 teekupz oen da kowntur an heetz uep da kaettel tu waelkoem u*  
  
Anja: Haello, leedle Germ-man gurl! U maek me bluesh! *blueshiz* My kut iz alredy heeld, hannon le. I lub u tu! *smuuch!*  
  
ren: I lub it whin u skweeeee like dat! Ar u teeklish rite hear?? Hoew abot hear?? Tea Hea! I due it like dis. . . *elf-skweeeeeeeee!!!!*  
  
Lil' Pip: Ur Ada gitz en enuf truble all bie heemsef. Soe du u. Kin I hav dis? *hoeldz uep ur blew pokit buuk* Doen't u daer tael enibuddie whut us saew oen da enternaet, due u heer me? *groewlz*  
  
Dunrosiel: U hav a tri pearsoenalatie? Duz dat mean u hav 3 peepl lieveeng ensied u, or dat u ar a beeg haelp cuz u trie soe haerd? *greanz and weenkz at u*  
  
LEAIL! LEAIL! LEAIL!!  
  
Arienna DyBane: Soe guud tu sea u! Boromir'z haer iz L'Oreal Eggsellense Proefessonel Hare Craem Culur Noembur 5 Meedeum Broewn. Da theater al fownd me at iz noet en a maell-it iz en a paerkin loet all bie itsef. Da tweenz wear noet dere whin I fael, soe I dunnoe if I kin coemplie wid ur rekwest tu braeng dem. Hearz a hueg fur u! *huegz*  
  
939597: She'z NOET my gurlfraend!! if I eber sed I haed a gurlfraend, I wuld bea en seo muech truble! *hi fievz u*  
  
davan: I deed git 2 reeveewz frum u! Vary nise, bof of dem. U muest bea pashunt wid doze dokturz. . . dey ar jest huemin u noe. U noe, it IZ haerd tu plae Oeld Maedz if da Oeld Maed iz meesing. . . . *givz u a kueddl fur trieeng soe haerd*  
  
Aranel: OOOOoooohhhh!!!! Kin I boerroe dat won dere.noe, noet dat won, da won dat iz tuu plaesiz doewn frum da klothzlien poel dere. . . yaeh, dat won! LEGOLAS!! Oeh, nebermiend. . . . I dunnoe abot da mofz, buet I deed git sum guem stuek en my hare wonse. . . it'z a guud thaeng al noez hoew tu git dat kiend of thaeng owt. Yaes, I noe da Peder Koettintael soeng, da won dat goewz like dis. . . Hear coemz Peder Koettintael, hoeppin doewn da buennie trayl, hieppatee hoepiteee. . . Legolas, darling, could you finish up please so I can post? Oeh, okae. . .*skwatz doewn soe I kin reech an givz ua a beeg hueg*  
  
Space Case 7029: I due lub da beeg broewn truk. Won dae I em goenna git tu driev it, I em shur. I like Dale, an Bill, an Mark, an Michael, an. . . weal, jest abot eberybuddie! Deed u sea da Balrog kar? Dat thaeng wuz oen fier frum da eensied owt! It luukd jest like da breedge at Khazaddum! Skeerie! I em glaed u rote tu me. Hearz a kees jest fur u! *SSSSSSSMMMMUUUUUCCCHHHHHH!*  
  
Skye Rocket: Wael, I gess FANTASTICAL kin bea a wurd ef u waent it tu bea won. Hannon le fur reedin an liven life aloeng wid me! *Huegz*  
  
Andy8: Dat sowndz jest like da beeg medal thaeng al haed her pikshur taekin oen. U kin ried a tuu whealer? WOEW! I tryd tu ried al'z biek won dae, buet I rekkd entu a trea. Doen't tael her, okae? She hazn't noetised dat it haz a leedle skrach oen da paynt yaet. *givz u a Hobbit hy-fiev*  
  
Cara6: I mite nead u tu teech me tu ried a biek. Dose trayneeng whealz sownd like jest whut I nead. Maebee u culd teech me beafoer u goe entu da hoespital tu hav ur keedz, okae? I lub anemalz of all kiendz, wael eggsept fur dat paelmaetto bueg dat al hiet wid da roelld uep paepr an saevd me. Kin u due da makarana? Daense wid me, Melde (dat iz whut Cara meenz en elvish, deed u noe dat? I meenz 'beelubbed')*Duz da makarana wid u*  
  
Raphael the Andromeda: Ar u hear yaet, Raphael? I weel bea waetin tu heer frum u agin! *waevz tu u wae bak dere*  
  
Irena: heh, I shur noe wut u meen, Vaern. al 'neadz all da haelp she kin git' iz an uendurstaetmint. U muest git wael suun, rwalaer, foer I em groeweeng empashunt wateing fur ues tu meat. Dere ar maeny theengz u muest teech me, u noe. *likz leepz en aentisapashun*  
  
LEAIL! LEAIL! LEAIL! LEAIL!!! Maed u luuk!! Tea Hea! I jest lub duen dat. It'z aelwaez wurse whin I hav haed tuu muech kaendee tuu. *muenchiz oen peenuet M&M'z u seant me* I dunnoe noetheeng abot a speen sykle. . . *blueshiz* Hear'z a kees fur u. . .*diepz u an taekz ur braeath awae. . .*  
  
Mcr. . . : Hiedin owt dere, ar u?? I goet ur e-male. U kin leve me a lub ledder tu, jest cleek oen da suebmit boex an tipe in a screen naem. U doent hav tu puet an e-male adraess, an u doen't hav tu bea a meambur of ff.net. Den tipe me a lub ledder, an cleek oen suebmit agin. Uenless u ar noet da tipe dat taekz wealeenglee tu suebmitteeng? *weenkz*  
  
The Two Princesses: Dat bueg weant rite doewn my throet! I wuz jest seengin awae, an miendin my oewn bizness, an dat bueg jest weant ZUUUUM!!! Ar u steel en skool noew? Dey due theengz bakwurdz en Awstralya frum hear. Ur M sowndz like she iz jaelus of Mees Shannon. . .duz she hav a kruesh oen me or sumptin? *geeglez* Hearz sum OOOOOOO'z an XXXXXXXXXX'z fur u!  
  
PuterPatty: Dere ar wimin whoe waent tu waek uep nekz tu ME??? An Min tuu??? Bie da Valar! *gulpz* Mees Shannon? *swaellowz* Uuhhh. . .whie, she'z jest dis gurl whoe wurkz at da hoespital,dat'z all. *skwermz* She iz NOET my gurlfraend, noe sieree. *luukz at da bueg oen da seeling* I deed NOET kees her. Noep. *peekz my feengurnaelz* Noet eben wonse. I swaer. . . . Legolas? You have clothes that need to go in this wash I'm fixing to start? Oeh, yaeh, baybee (c Legolas) . . . deez uendurwaer ar en baed shaep noew. . . .*keesiz u tu maek uep?*  
  
The Karenator: Hi Karenator! I sea da ff.net karenated ur reeveew!! Tea Hea! U goet da rite ideea, noew trie agin *seandz u dis beeeg hueg fur trien!*  
  
anna: My ada wulda hed my haed if I deen't giv dat kaendee tu da laydee. He iz a vary wiez an guud keeng an father, an da laydeez doen't lub heem fur nuthin dere en heez paelase at Mirkwood. It wuz haerd, tho, eggspaeshully aftur I wurkd soe haerd tu git dem. *kueddlz u*  
  
Arilyn: Mmmmm. . .choklit kaek. Hoew ar da waeddin plaenz goen? I hoep u ar steel keapin ur kuul en da heet. It woen't bea loeng noew. I deedn't giv Mees Shannon my nuembur. . . PuterPatty wuld KEEL me if I deed! *huegz an keesiz fur u*  
  
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Submit quick! Next chapter is waiting only for Legolas to type up his "lub ledders" to you! 


	11. The Sound of Silence

A/N: A big thank you to everyone who has sent well wishes for my quick recovery. All the hugs and love have been greatly appreciated. I also greatly appreciate all of your feedback and comments, as well as the love and hugs and kisses you all share with the Prance. He was soooo terribly excited when the review counter turned over 450 just before this chapter posted. Feeling incredibly loved is his specialty, I think (aside from being able to do a back flip from a standing frozen-still position, that is).  
  
I'll do the disclaimer thing again, since I need to do that every few chapters or so: I don't own him, he belongs to himself, and I receive absobloodylutely no money or profit of any kind from the writings herewith, except of course the sheer fun of having known him firsthand and on a daily basis.  
  
And last but not least, thank you this special time to leailelf for beta'ing this one for me. See, I told you I could wait.  
  
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Chapter 11 The Sound of Silence  
  
The drive home passes by in complete silence. I know he's still blaming himself, but he adamantly refused to listen to any explanation of blood pressure and how it works from either the nurse or me. He insisted until the car door shut that my elevated situation is totally a byproduct of his own doing. Since the click of the seat belt, he has maintained his silence on the passenger side and I have finally complied with his wishes and left him alone to brood.  
  
The moment we're in the door he picks up Princess Elizabeth from her sunlit spot in the front bay window, whisking her off to his bedroom. I hear the gentle 'click' of the lock as it engages. The Prance chooses to Not Be Disturbed.  
  
I reach for the phone to tell Yes Dear of the schedule changes. He's a bit surprised but not shocked. High blood pressure runs in my family, and I've been borderline for a little while now. Calls are also made to reschedule everything I had cancelled for the first of next week. While I'm on the phone, my ears register the sound of a bedroom door opening, followed by the sound of the back door swinging open and then shut.  
  
The Prance has gone outside. I think. Sometimes I wonder if it's an inherited trait to believe the world revolves around you, or if they teach that in elf kindergarten.  
  
He still hasn't come back by the time I need to leave to pick Lil' Pip up from school. I try calling him but he doesn't answer and he doesn't show up either. I leave a note for him taped to the glass of the back door telling him where I've gone and that I'll be back soon. It's still taped in place when I get back.  
  
Thinking he's probably gone for a long walk, I go on with my afternoon chores, bringing the laundry in from the clothesline and getting something out to defrost for supper. It isn't until Yes Dear gets home from work that I realize how long he's really been gone.  
  
Over six hours.  
  
I try calling him again, beginning to wonder if he's intentionally ignoring me for some reason. He wasn't angry before, at least I didn't think so. More like dejected, sad, maybe even burdened.  
  
Or guilty.  
  
Now I'm starting to worry. I spend a few minutes telling Yes Dear what transpired at the hospital, and he too becomes concerned.  
  
That's about the time we decide to call in the cavalry. I pick up the phone.  
  
"Hello, Janet?" I say to my next door neighbor when she picks up. "Legolas isn't over there poking around in your flowerbeds, is he?"  
  
"Hello, Teresa? Would you mind looking outside and see if Legolas is swimming in your pool again?"  
  
"Hello, Tommy? You aren't getting a little free slave labor on that new riding lawnmower of yours right now, are you?"  
  
Nobody's seen him.  
  
No one is missing a car either, which is another good thing since Legolas doesn't have a driver's license. He's watched me drive plenty of times, and with his penchant for perfection could probably do it well the first time he tried.  
  
Right now about a dozen families are on the lookout for him, but an elf who doesn't want to be found can be quite formidable. If I find out he's playing a trick of some sorts on me, I'm gonna have a stroke.  
  
Just kidding.  
  
About the time I've rung everybody on the block, the phone goes off in my hand. It's Lisa who lives in the second house from the front of the subdivision. "I heard you lost something, "she teases.  
  
"I did. . . at least I THINK I may have," I answer. "Have you seen Legolas this afternoon?"  
  
"I hate to tell you this, but Clay just called and said he waved to him this afternoon; it would have been about 4:30."  
  
I think.   
  
"Clay was coming back from Greenwood and passed him walking along the side of the road."  
  
Oh. Right. So that's NOT good news.  
  
She continues, "He was right near the lake, just past the sub sandwich shop there."  
  
That's almost twenty miles from home. He's not just wandering about in the woods talking to the trees. He's not tending the flowerbeds or the lawn next door, or doing a baelliefloep in the pool up the street.  
  
Legolas is running away from home.  
  
Thanking Lisa for calling, I hastily hang up and grab my car keys and book bag. Yes Dear hollers at Lil' Pip to get in the car, and in a matter of minutes we're on our way to Greenwood.  
  
We take the main highway, watching carefully once we pass the sub sandwich place and then the lake. If he's been able to keep up the pace he set before Clay spotted him, he could easily have made it to the Greenwood city limit by now.  
  
"Where should we try first?" I ask my logical-thinking husband.  
  
"The only places he's familiar with really are the theater, the police station, the Chick-fil-A, and the Red Lobster," muses Yes Dear.  
  
Great. Three places you can get food, and one where you get to go when you don't have money to pay for the food you've gotten. We learned THAT before.  
  
We stop at all four places, beginning at the Red Lobster since it's the closest. He likes to go there to see the big tank. We haven't told him it's not a regular aquarium like the ones in Wal-Mart.  
  
We describe him to the maitre d', who is positive she hasn't seated anyone matching his description tonight.  
  
The Chick-fil-A staff haven't served anyone that looks like him at the drive through or walk up windows either. We head down to the theater, where the young lady at the ticket window takes one look at my hair and exclaims, "You know, your hair looks a lot like the blond wig that elf-guy from 'The Lord of the Rings' was wearing."  
  
"Have you seen him?" I ask her, thinking we've found him at last.  
  
"Of course!" she exclaims. "I've seen 'The Fellowship of the Ring' seven times now and 'The Two Towers' four times, but I should beat my old record by the time it goes to video," she brags.  
  
"Shuddup, al," mumbles Yes Dear, never breaking his smile.  
  
(Author's note: *coff 24 times for FOTR / 17 for TTT coff*)  
  
"He's sooooo HOT. . . ," she whispers, winking at me.  
  
"Who, him?" I ask, hooking my thumb in Yes Dear's direction.  
  
"No! The elf-guy!" she scoffs.  
  
Of course.  
  
"Have you seen anyone who looks like him today, wearing jeans instead of leggings?" asks Yes Dear.  
  
"Jeans? You mean tights?" she asks.  
  
" 'Dere not tighdts, dere leggings!' " quotes Lil' Pip in perfect mocking imitation of the Prance.  
  
"Who talks just like that?" I ask, pointing at Lil' Pip.  
  
She thinks about it for a second - at least she pauses as if she's thinking. Maybe she's actually considering whether to call the cops or the psychiatric warden.  
  
"No. I haven't seen anyone who looks like the elf-guy wearing jeans who talks like 'dat' today," she concludes.  
  
We move on to the police station. No one's seen Legolas there either, and it's too early to fill out a missing person - er, missing elf - report. While we're standing at the desk, Officer Pendleton comes in to greet us.  
  
"You know, we COULD put out a BOLO on him," he says to the desk clerk.  
  
"Mama, what's a BOLO?" says Lil' Pip. "Can I have one too?"  
  
Officer Pendleton guffaws loudly. "A BOLO, my dear lass," he chortles, "is a warning notice for all officers to 'Be On the Lookout'. It tells the officers on the streets to watch for someone who isn't really a 'normal' missing person."  
  
'Normal'. Right.  
  
"Don't you put out a BOLO on bank robbers, and kidnappers, and other kinds of bad guys?" asks Yes Dear.  
  
"Most of the time that's how it works," answers Officer Pendleton. "I think this time we could make an exception."  
  
Soon Officer Pendleton has gotten a fair description of Legolas and his latest fashion trend. When we left the house this morning for the hospital (seems like a year ago now), he was wearing black jeans and a USC Gamecocks t-shirt, black with garnet and white of course, and white Nike tennis shoes. I say a prayer of thanks he's not wearing the Viagra racing cap this time. I'm also sure to point out he's six foot tall.  
  
"Now we wait," Officer Pendleton says to me with a grandfatherly pat on my knee.  
  
And wait we do. A couple of hours pass by, and there's been no report of a sighting at all. As midnight approaches, I'm starting to panic.  
  
That's when the call comes in. "Come on," says Officer Pendleton.  
  
The three of us pile in to the backseat of his patrol car - me in the middle and Lil' Pip and Yes Dear on the sides.  
  
"Can you turn on the blue lights and the siren?" asks Lil' Pip.  
  
"Well, I CAN. . . ," starts Officer Pendleton, but I cut him off.  
  
"NO! You'll scare him!" I shout.  
  
". . . but normally we don't," he finishes with a smile and a wink at me. "Relax, Mom," he assures me. "He'll be ok. We'll find him."  
  
We pull up to a dimly lit brick building with several people hanging around under the single light by the doorway. The Greyhound Bus Station. Inside it's as different as night and day. The place is fairly old, but the lobby is painted a warm and inviting yellow color. Bright multicolored chairs sit along the walls, holding a few patrons awaiting their tickets to fame and fortune. In the farthest corner, sitting in a chair with head down and elbows on knees, sits someone who looks like he's lost everything. In his hands he holds an envelope, not the business letter kind but one that would hold a personal message, like a Birthday card or a Thank You note. The envelope is worn a bit, probably from being lovingly considered many, many times. It's white, more square than oblong really, with an American flag stamp in the top right hand corner. The address is written there in green ink - feminine writing with lots of embellishments to the lettering.  
  
He sighs, and as he does so he turns the envelope over, staring now at the oval sealing sticker illustration of a fat little blue bird sitting on a rock amongst two sprigs of lavender growing in a meadow somewhere. A worried look passes over his handsome face like a dark cloud.  
  
He's not wearing garnet and black at all, but has dressed in his green jerkin, silver tunic, gray-blue leggings, and soft brown boots. Bow and quiver of arrows lie beside him on the adjoining chair. If he had been stark naked I would have recognized him from just that envelope alone. It's his most prized possession, the most valuable thing he has on 'Modren- erth'.  
  
The bow and quiver of arrows can be replaced. A seamstress could with some luck duplicate the elaborate embroidery of his leather jerkin and boots. This envelope is not replaceable. There is no other like it in all of Modern-earth, just as there are none like her.  
  
It's his love letter from PuterPatty, his #1 fan, the keeper of the #1 ticket, her address clearly printed there in the top left-hand front corner.  
  
Legolas is leaving me.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Lub Ledders from Legolas  
  
Lil' Pip: I kin't beeleeve u tole eberybuddie abot dat Legolas akshun feegur oen da Internaet. At leest u deedn't giv dem da leenk. . . .You mean the one that looks like a Barbie doll at http: // cgi. ebay .com /ws/ eBay ISAPI .dll? ViewItem & item = 2935224237 , Legolas?. . . .Yaeh, al, dat'z da won . . . HAE!! *groewlz*  
  
daw the minstrel: Smeagol wuz rite abot sumptin. He alwaez uzed tu sae, "if we bea nise tu dem, dey bea nise tu us." Or sumptin like dat. Aniwae, I theenk we hav da nisest hoespeetle en da world. An da pertiest nuersez tu. Jest bea ursef eberyware u goe. Dat'z whut I due. *bloewz u a kees*  
  
SarWolfe Snape: Coed Raed! MMMmmmm. . . I seam tu hav fraendz eberyware I goe. Yeas Deer haz bean teezin me abot getten a joeb doeng hare doewn at da beeutee paerlur. Due u waent me tu maek u an apoentmint? *pikz up pancil an skedjule buuk*  
  
Chan: al!! *luukz at baellie* Luuk whut she deed!! *poyntz at baellie* Dere'z a deant en my baellie whur Chan poeked me! Luuk!! *al peers at the place Legolas is pointing to* That's your bellybutton, Prance. Everybody's got one. *Luukz agin* Oeh. . . nebermiend. *Huegz u bak*  
  
IRENA: OEH YAEH, BAYBEE!! (c Legolas) I goet a duk, sum of Yaes Deerz cueffleenkz, a paer of waedrz, tu caerdbowrd tuebz frum da toelit paepur, a spuun an a boewl, a caen of 10W40, a baeg of saewduest, sum eer pluegz, and a buempur heetch fur a 1974 Ford Maeverik. Da maen at da awto paertz stoer deedn't hav won fur a 1975, buet whin I eggsplayned whut I neaded it fur he sed a 1974 wuld due jest fien. Da oenlee thaeng I deedn't uendurstaend wuz whut in da hek iz da blaendur fur? Kin haerdlee wate fur ur arrivel. I proemiss noet tu taell PP. . . . Huerrie tho, she haz elf eerz, u noe. *leekz leepz an groewlz*  
  
PuterPatty: Whut due u meen "*letz u keez me*"? I steel goet a krik en my nek frum dat haedlok u haed me en. Bea kaerful, u weel maess up my hare! Dis hoel thaeng IZ all my fawlt. If I haedn't coem aloeng, al wuld jest bea goen abot her bizness, drievin Leedle Peep arond an cuukin an kleenin fur Yaes Deer. *whakz Yaes Deer fur laffin teel he choekz* If I haelp u wid dat lauendree, kin I ried whin da speen sykle iz oen? Puhleeze? Doen't luuk at whut I rote tu Irena. . . . I deedn't meen a wurd of it. *kueddlz up tu ur sied an ruenz my feengur dere. . . den deepz u fur a loeng kees* I'm coemin, baybee!!  
  
Nilmandra: Uehhh. . . dey seant us hoem. Wuz dat okae? Deed I due da rite thaeng? Shuld I hav maed al staey? Shuld I hav askd tu sea dat doktur? Shuld I hav bean da won tu driev al hoem? I neber drove beafoer, buet I hav wachd aloet. . . .. Dis hoel thaeng IZ all my fawlt. I jest kin't git it rite. I thaenk I nead anuthr of ur maesagiz an keesiz. Buet whie deed u goe duenk en da reevir? I wulda skootid ober. . . . *puellz u entu my aermz fur anuthr of ur keesiz*  
  
SperryDee: Oeh, da Naz-Buenniz ar soe kuute!! Iz dis won me? *poyntz* I baet dey meesd u wile u wear goen tu caemp. I baet ur mom meesd u moer dan dey deed. Deed dey groew wile u wear goen? I wanna heer all abot caemp, okae? *huegz u an Charlie an da baybeez*  
  
Lady Silence: Oew! Oew! *juempz an ruenz around wid haendz coevereeng misef* Oew! al, dat huertz! It's a nerf bat, Legolas, and I'm only chasing you, I haven't even touched you with it. . . YET! *cackles evilly like the true witch I am* Alright, I'll stop. Come finish your cakes. *watches as the Prance stuffs himself once again with Lemon cake and Bavarian Chocolate cake* Hannon le, Lady Silence! *graebz u fur a kwik hueg beafoar al gitz dat baet owt agin*  
  
Michelle: *takez choklit, likz around da owtsied, poepz entu mouf an chewz sloelee* MMmmm. . . . al iz tryen tu wurk owt a wae fur me tu goe tu Deeznee Wurld. I reely waenna reid dat Pierit ried. *snuegglz u*  
  
lotrmatrixstarwarsfan: Luuk, al! Dere'z anuthr neu faengurl! *waevz* Hannon le fur all da woendurful thaengz u saed. Noe, I em noet canonical-we doen't hav caennonz whur I coem frum en Meedle-erth. *seandz u a kees aer-male*  
  
The Karenator: U deedn't sea dat, reemembur? I doen't miend seain da bluud, it'z da neadlz dat git tu me. U goet me a Gaemkokz t-shurt AN a paess tu da loekr ruum?? WOEW!!! I wuld maek a guud cheekin, I theenk. *daensiz da Cheekin daense fur u tu bea da juedge of dat*  
  
TreeHugger: I doen't eet like dat ebery dae, jest threa oer foar tiemz a weak at da moest. al sez she payses cuz it huertz, noet becuz she'z nearvus. Doen't furgit Leedle Peep-al sez she reely duz hav 3 Stoogiz livin wid her. Tu bea hepful u muest luuk ur baest, an all da laedeez due like tu noe jest hoew al iz duein. Dey weel staend dere an leestin all dae whin I giv da reepoart, den dey ask loetz of kwestshunz I muest anser. PP doez hav da #1 tikit, buet Irena livz muech kloesur. It wuld be an eenturesteeng rase, tu sae da leest. An reemeembur, u deedn't sea dat. Nuthin haeppind. *puetz a raezbaeerie kees on ur cheak*  
  
Lina Skye: Hairy Podder? I haed tu wate fur Yaes Deer an Leedle Peep tu reed it furst, buet it wuz guud whin my tuern fienully caem. I woen't tael Arwen-u kin skeer her bedder dat wae. I lub it whin she skreemz. *seandz u sum Bertie Botts Beenz*  
  
Cate: Hae, Cate! Waelkum! I wuld giv u a tikit, buet PP haz stole da deespencer agin! U kin goe sea her an she weel giv u a tikit tu hav me coem sea u. I wuld lub tu sea Canada, an I haed grean beear fur St. Patrik'z Dae. Dat'z hoew I eandid up wid dat grean haet. Deed u sea it? Seand al ur e-male an she'll seand it tu u, if u waent. *gievz u a beeg hueg fur reedeeng soe pashuntlee*  
  
Newmoon: A baeld eegil? I baet heez haed gitz koeld en da weenturtiem. Sowndz like u haed loetz of fuen! Yeap, thaengz git wurse beafoar dey get bedder alot arond hear. . . . *steelz a kees frum u*  
  
Vladimir'sAngel: *muenciz piezzae* *huegz u* I like ur neu jeenz. If al haed a pare like doze, she culd caerrie sum peenuetbuddr cuepz an kiet kaetz an Hearshey keesiz wid my koemb an my meeror an my brush an my tufpaest an. . . . Don't get any ideas there, lover boy. We'll get you a pair and you can carry MY stuff around, got it??  
  
Lady Peredhel: *daensiz wid u* Eggzamz ar dun! Eggzamz ar dun! Noew LP kin have sum fuen! Whoooeee Hoooeeee! (c Celeborn) It'z haerd noet tu luuk at u whin u ar waerin DAT! I theenk my bluud praesshur iz goen up tu. . . .*haedz fur da koeld shower*  
  
MagicalRachel: al iz deafinetlee a Maerie Suew. If u liv en England, due u noe dat guey whoe pertindz he iz me? Duz he shoep at da saem maerkit az u? Sea if he puetz M&M'z en heez kaert nekz tiem he'z dere, okae?? *snuegglz u tu keap u waerm en England dere*  
  
Laura: Noebueddie saew dat, I'm shur. I goet tu eet 3 leedle tumadoez dis weak, an dere ar 3 owt dere dat weel be beeg enuf tu sliece entu a tumadoe saendwitch bie tumoerrow! Dat'z whut I'm wading fur! *likz leepz en antisipashun, den gievz u a leedle kees whin u ar noet luukin*  
  
Lady in Red: *duz da taengo, den da chae chae, den da macaroni* She sez I em her faevurit, al!! Oeh boey! Waelkum, Lady in Red! *bloewz u a kees*  
  
Holly :o) : We goet tuu muech rayne noew tuu! I stoepd duein da rayne daense a wile agoe. I deed eanjoey plaein en all da pueddlz, tho. *smuuuch*  
  
JastaElf: Ahhhh Jasta, not just once, but this time you got him TWICE!! *fans the 'little honeybun of love' before finally resorting to tossing a full glass of water in his general direction* Ahhh! There you are, Jasta's 'sweet little Elven honey. . . . Nevermind that, just get up here and finish, ok? *draegz sef entu chaer* Whur wuz I? *staertz tu reed owt lowd agin. . . .* Frum Jasta. . . "YAY. . . I deedn't git a lub ledder. . . leedle elbin hunneybun . . . *THUD* Darnit, Jasta, there he goes again. . . .  
  
Katani Petitedra: Graep jaelloe? Jest a pikshur, noet da reel thaeng? Woew, u muest bea az guellable az I em. *huegz u*  
  
Skye Rocket: I em soe glaed u lub it!! *daensis wid u*  
  
IM: Leedle Peep sez she iz prowd dat a keetie haz bean naemd aftur her, an waentz tu noe if it'z a gurl oer a boey keetie. She hoepz it'z a gurl kat. I em soe glaed u seant me a lub ledder! *huegz u tite, den plaentz a kees oen ur cheak*  
  
Space-Case 7029: Yaeh, Kevin! I lub tu wach dose karz raese arond dat trak, doen't u? Won dae I em goenna driev won of dose karz, hoew abot u? *snuegglz u*  
  
Anon: al noez goessip deert?? Abot me? Woew, I deedn't knoe dat. She deedn't tael abot whut haeppind en da bakseet of da vaen, deed she? I shur hoep noet. Whur deed u goe en Europe? Dat sowndz like fuen. Tael me abot it sumtiem, okae? *Kueddlz u*  
  
leail: LEAIL! LEAIL! LEAIL! LEAIL!! I oenlee eet like dat ebery othur dae or soe. I culdn't due it eberydae. Elves ar like huemminburdz. . .we uze a loet of eanurgee wid owr eberydae aktivateez. I steel kinnot bealeeve al luukz like dat uendur her skeen. Oer oen toep of her skeen, fur dat maettur. Woew. . . .al ez tuff, buet dose neadulz skeer eben a seezond worrier like me. I dunnoe hoew she kin jest siet dere an leat dem puet dat en her. *shueddrz* I nead a hueg *steelz a hueg frum u* Kin I hav a kees tu? *klozez eyez an puekrz uep. . . .*  
  
Cara6: Hoew iz da neu buenk bed en da neu howse? Due u git tu sleap oen da vary toep? U deedn't faell oeff, deed u? Dat sowndz like da flets dat elves en Lothlorien sleap oen. Leat'z salebrate bie duen da macaroni *danses wid u*  
  
ren: I hoep I em duen da rite thaeng tu maek al git bedder. I kin't due enithaeng abot dat stoen, buet I kin git oudda her hare an hep her bluud praeshur. Maebee noew she weel bea okae, due u theenk? *snuegglz uep tu u fur kumfurt*  
  
caranwen: I kin't wate teel I git tu sea dat guey whoe theenkz he iz me bean a pierit! Noew mebbe he weel goe pik oen sumbuddie ealse heez oen aege. *seandz u sum elbin lub*  
  
Angaloth: Dose ar da baest haembergrrz en Modren-erth, I theenk. An da friez, an da piez, an da. . .weel, u noe. U reely deedn't sea enithaeng, deed u? Noebuddie ealse deed. *skweazez u*  
  
Anja: Whur deed u goe? Deed u hav a guud tiem? Weel u tael me all abot it whin u git bak? I mees u alreedy. *beeg hueg I saevd jest fur u*  
  
Threthiel: Hannon le fur da lub ledder, an fur all da nise thaengz u sed abot me. I em glaed u staertid riting tu me. I lub tu here frum u! *huegz u an seandz u a kees*  
  
Arienna: Doen't wurry abot seain whut u deedn't sea en baettil. We doen't hav neadlz en Meedle-erth. Az fur dat kwestshun tu al, she sez it iz tuu eerlee tu theenk abot it. She doezn't waent tu theenk abot dat uenteel at leest Noevembur. *cueddlz*  
  
Aranel: Weel, I waentid it fur. . .I waentid. . .I kin't tael u, al iz wachin me! Doze ar da baest buergrrz I hav eber haed. U wuld like dem tuu. I em shur I culd git ur hare tu brayed. . . I hav haed loetz of praktise. Reemeembur, u deedn't sea a thaeng, rite? *brueshiz my leepz akross ur cheak*  
  
anna: Deed u sea my haet fur da Foarth of Juelye? Heehee! I lub'd da paeraedz, an da saelz at da stoerz, buet da fierwurkz wear a leedle louwd fur my eerz. I liked wachin it oen da TV bedder. *beeg huegz fur u*  
  
The Two Princesses: Hoew iz ur suemmir brake goen? I hoep u ar gettin tu eet loetz of haembuergrz jest like da wonz we hav hear at da hoespeetil. al sez M iz rite abot da fleebotamist. Dat iz sumwon whoe taekz da bluud frum ur vainz. U deedn't sea enithaeng, noew deed u. Noebuddie saew enithaeng, NOEBUDDIE. OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX  
  
gershwin: It'z noet da bluud. It'z da neadlz. *shueddrz* I noe jest hoew ur realatiev fealz, eggsept noebuddie haz eber stuk me wid won of dose thaengs. *skweaziz u*  
  
amber 725 aka Stimpy: I weel bea theenkin of u oen ur birfdae az wael az whin u goe tu da hoespitael. I hoep ur hoespitael iz as nise az owrz. *seandz u a spaeshul smuuuuuuch*  
  
Digital Jessie: Jest whin u theenk theengz ar az baed az dey kin git, sumptin ealse haeppinz. U noe, I DUE hav a loet of peepul waelkin arond beehiend me sumtiemz. Fuennie dat u poyntid dat owt. . . .*shaerz sum elf suugur wid u*  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
U due sea whie dis iz all my fawlt, doen't u? Rite me kwik! I dunnoe if PuterPatty weel leat me uze her coempuder-I theenk she weel bea keapin me vary bizzie! 


	12. Everything Depends On How You Look At It

Disclaimer: Don't own him. He owns himself. Names have been changed sometimes to protect the innocent. Sometimes not, when I forget. Ooops.  
  
Chapter 12 Everything Depends On How You Look At It  
  
As I stand there staring at him, not truly believing what I'm seeing but not truly surprised either, Officer Pendleton nudges me with his elbow. "Go on," he says. "He needs you."  
  
Legolas never looks up from PuterPatty's envelope as I approach. I take the seat next to him, sitting down and mirroring his position of elbows on knees with my eyes cast at my feet. "I've missed you, nin caun," I whisper. "Why didn't you tell me where you were going?"  
  
I watch him out of the corner of my eye as he slowly strokes the envelope, running the pad of his index finger over the name, then the address, along the edge, over the stamp. Over and over, gliding with utmost care and consideration. Lovingly, tenderly, and delicately, as if the motion itself would somehow soothe his aching heart.  
  
"I leaft u a noet," he says, still staring at the envelope. "I puet it uendur my peelow. Deedn't u fiend it?"  
  
Truth is, I never even thought to look.  
  
"I thot maebee u wuld git bedder faestur if I weant tu stae wid Patty," he continues.  
  
"Why are you still here, then? Did you miss the bus?" I question, as I watch him turn the envelope over and begin the stroking anew.  
  
"I doen't hav enuf muney," he mutters, eyes locked now on the sticker of the sparrow standing on the rock between the two purple flowers in the field as he repeats the flowing movement with tenderhearted thoughtfulness.  
  
"How much do you have?" I ask.  
  
He reaches for the quiver, digging in the arrow compartment and coming up with a tiny satchel which jingles as he lifts it as if it's filled with coins. He hands it to me, then looks again at the envelope he holds in his hands and resumes the repetitive journey of his fingertip. Inside I find some paper money and 6 coins.  
  
"You have a dollar and thirty three cents," I respond.  
  
"Whut? I haed a huendrid an won doellerz an theerty threa sintz," he exclaims, abandoning the envelope worship and peering at the money I hold in my hand. "Whur deed my huendrid goe?"  
  
"It's right here, don't worry," I show him, holding up the beige colored bill so he can see it. "But nin caun, you can't use this money here."  
  
"U meen I wuld hav tu goe tu Boredwaelk?" he says seriously.  
  
"Something like that." I'm too heartbroken to chuckle.  
  
Magically, a credit card appears before my face. I glare up at Yes Dear who stands there waving the piece of plastic in the air. "I'll pay," he offers.  
  
Legolas smiles up innocently at him. "Hannon le, Yaes Deer," he says. "Dat iz a vary nise thaeng fur u tu due."  
  
Growling, I snarl, "You don't have to. I brought him here; I'll be responsible for him." Taking the Prance by the hand, I pull him to his feet. "Come on," I say.  
  
When we reach the ticket window, I take the envelope from him and place it on the counter in front of me. "We need a one-way ticket as close to there as you can get," I tell the teller while pointing to PuterPatty's return address. I reach into my bookbag and take out my wallet, pulling my own credit card from the little pocket that holds it.  
  
Legolas stands silently beside me, toeing the carpet with one brown leather boot and staring at his feet.  
  
"That will be $135.00," the teller says to me, taking my card.  
  
"Sea?" mumbles the Prance without lifting his blond head. "I deedn't hav enuf muney."  
  
As she prepares to charge it, I ask, "When does the bus leave?"  
  
"Not until tomorrow noon," she replies. "It's about a 36 hour trip."  
  
"Wow," I say. "I didn't realize it was that far. Will the driver stop for meals?"  
  
"Several times." She eyes Legolas, taking in his lack of luggage. "You might want to run by the store and get him a pillow and a blanket though, honey. He looks like he could use the chance to sleep awhile on the way. To pass the time, you know?"  
  
I look back at the Prance standing there dejectedly beside me. That's when I notice his lips are moving, though I never heard him say anything.  
  
"Legolas? Did you say something?"  
  
"Yaes," he whispers.  
  
When he doesn't elaborate, I prod further. "And that was . . . ?"  
  
"I doen't reely waenna goe."  
  
Not sure I heard him, I ask again. "What did you say?"  
  
He looks up directly into my eyes for the first time. "I sed I doen't reely waenna goe. Noet like dis. I doen't waenna goe wifouwt u dere wid me." He pauses, never taking his eyes from mine.  
  
"I reely waenna goe hoem."  
  
"Legolas, they don't sell bus tickets to Middle-earth. I can't get you back there until December, you know that. We've tried it before and it didn't work, we even went to several different cities and tried, but . . . ."  
  
"al. I sed I waenna goe HOEM. HOEM wid u. Wid Leedle Peep, an Yaes Deer, an da doeggie, an da keeteez, buet moest of all wid u."  
  
My arms are around his neck before he has a chance to blink.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Officer Pendleton is kind enough to pack us all into his police car and drive us back to the station, where we climb back in our car for the ride home. Yes Dear turns the radio on to drown out the deafening silence. About halfway there, I hear Legolas speak.  
  
"I em soerrie," he whispers, his voice filled with woe. "I neber mint tu huert u."  
  
"I'm going to be ok," I reassure him. "And I really do need you here with me. I need someone to hold my hand when I go to the doctor on Tuesday, so that I won't be nervous and my blood pressure will be lower."  
  
"Whut abot Yaes Deer? He'z noet goeng?"  
  
"He has to work. Little Pip will be at school. If you're not with me, I'll have to go all alone. That won't be much fun."  
  
"U nead me den?" he whispers.  
  
"Of course, nin caun," I whisper back, reaching out to squeeze his hand.  
  
There in the darkness of the backseat of the car, even though he has now turned his head to look out of the window, I can still see the flash of white teeth reflected in the glass as he smiles.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Tuesday morning comes. We head over together to the doctor's office. He sticks to me like peanut butter the whole time we're there, standing at my left elbow the same way he used to do to Aragorn. When he's not reaching to grasp my hand, his long fingers are clenching my elbow, or his palm is pat- patting my forearm. I try pushing him over a bit by holding my elbow a good six inches out from my side and ribbing him with it every time he invades my space, not that he seems to mind. I change tactics and start stepping sideways over into his space and actually manage to knock him off balance twice, but this doesn't deter him either. When the nurse asks me to step on the scale and I end up weighing quite a lot more than I had expected, I look back to see he's got one foot planted between my own and is about to step up with the other.  
  
"I don't think so," I reprimand him. "There are some things you have to do by yourself, remember?"  
  
"I dunnoe if it luukz saef, al," he implores, carefully inspecting the scale. "U nead tu bea kaerful, da boettim iz luuse. I weel just hoeld it steel wid my fuut like dis, an it shuld bea okae."  
  
The nurse is beginning to look at him as if he's got a few screws loose himself. She's looking at me like she thinks she might end up needing to go get me a wheelchair.  
  
He watches as she slides the metal weights across the bar, tap-tapping them along the bar until she gets them right where she wants for an accurate measurement.  
  
"Woew!" exclaims the Prance.  
  
"Shut up, Legolas," I growl.  
  
She shows us to a little room and has me sit on the exam table so she can take my blood pressure. She frowns. "Did you know it was this high?" she asks.  
  
"Yes," I answer.  
  
"Why didn't you come in?" she questions.  
  
"Dat'z whut I sed," blurts the Prance.  
  
I shoot him a glare, wondering why I didn't insist he get on that bus. "I had to wait for an appointment," I say, managing somehow to take a deep breath and not get any more worked up than I already am.  
  
She folds the blood pressure cuff up and replaces it in the basket there on the wall. "Dr. Hallwell will be here in a few moments," she announces. She picks up my chart and steps outside, closing the door.  
  
"She tuuk ur paepurz," says the Prance.  
  
"It's ok. She's putting them where the Doctor will see them and know we are ready and waiting,' I tell him.  
  
I watch as he quietly sits there on the chair, eyeballing the place as if an orc might suddenly leap from one of the cabinets. Finally, he can take it no more and rises from his seat to go over and inspect the plastic model that sits there on the countertop. He picks it up, turning it over carefully and trying to figure out how it works. He seems a bit surprised when he finds it's bendable.  
  
"Jest like my akshun feegur," he murmurs. "Whut iz dis?"  
  
"It's a model of a spine," I reply.  
  
"Duz mien luuk like dis?"  
  
"I don't know, I've never seen an elf spine, but I would imagine that's pretty close. Yours would be much more flexible, I think."  
  
"Oeh," he says. He gently places it back down, then quietly and subtly moves over to the sink and rinses his hands.  
  
Still inquisitive, he cracks open the left cabinet door just a bit and peers inside, then follows suit with the right. Through the tiny opening I can see the usual doctor's office supplies-gauze pads, cotton balls, Q- tips, plastic sleeve-covers for the thermometers, a tube of KY jelly, a stack of those paper patient gowns.  
  
He closes the top doors and moves to inspect the lower ones. After pulling the left one open, his seeking mind gets the best of him and once more he reaches to pick up the object of his interest, withdrawing it from the cabinet and holding it before his big baby blues.  
  
"al?" he asks, as His Nosey-ness discovers if he squeezes it just so the thing will move, "Whut iz dis fur?"  
  
I suppress the giggles that are threatening to burst forth. "You really DON'T wanna know, Prance."  
  
The look on his face is priceless, and the speed with which he returns the object to the cabinet would make a rattlesnake green with envy. He immediately rises and dives into the sink again, scrubbing this time with the antiseptic micro-bacterial soap from the dispenser beside the faucet all the way to his elbows.  
  
Knowing the Prance as well as I do, I have no intention of ever asking what exactly it was that came to his mind.  
  
He comes back and sits patiently for a few minutes, looking at the cute little pictures of chubby little babies posted all over the walls. Another ten minutes ticks by.  
  
"Legolas?" I whisper.  
  
"Yaes?" he answers, leaping from his chair and standing at the ready by my side. "Ar u okae, al? Kin I git u sumpthaeng?"  
  
I have to smile at him, so willing to help, so wanting to make everything right again.  
  
"Can you get me one of those purple things from the box over there?" I ask, pointing to the box of size 7 rubber gloves sitting on the counter.  
  
"Okae!" he says, scurrying to the counter, fetching the purple rubber glove from the box and flying back to my side. "Iz won enuf? Due u nead anuthr? Deed I git da rite won? Weel dat due?"  
  
Laughing out loud, I pluck the glove from his hand and pat his shoulder. "One is perfect, nin caun."  
  
"al?" he says, cocking the Thranduilion eyebrow. "Whut iz dat?"  
  
"I'll show you," I say. "First, get me the black magic marker from the pencil holder over there."  
  
While he scoots over to get the marker, I blow the rubber glove full of air, tying a knot in the wrist. When he hands me the marker, I add a smiling face to the palm and give the "balloon" back to him.  
  
"Oeh! Woew! Iz dat fur me?" he asks.  
  
"You can have it," I tell him just as I hear a soft knock on the door and Dr. Hallwell steps in.  
  
After the usual pleasantries, Dr. Hallwell checks my blood pressure again herself. She frowns.  
  
"It's still 156/112," she says. "That's too high. What did they say it was over at the hospital?"  
  
"It was 183/125," I answer, watching her work to suppress her expression.  
  
"Really?" she murmurs. "Hmmmmm . . . they didn't mention sending you over to the ER?"  
  
"Noe, buet wea haed aelredy sayd 'Hae' tu ebery bueddie dere beafoer dat," pipes in the Prance.  
  
"I see," says Dr. Hallwell, smiling at Legolas but not really seeing at all.  
  
She fixes me up with a couple of weeks worth of samples and wishes me luck in passing the stone before my follow-up visit in a month.  
  
Legolas happily trots along behind me to the car, carrying my brown paper bag of freebies in one hand and the smiling purple rubber glove in the other, which of course he uses to wave wildly at every warm body we pass from the exam room to the checkout desk to the overflowing waiting room to the parking lot.  
  
I pop one of the little yellow blood pressure pills into my mouth and dry- swallow it as I unlock the car door. I'm think I'm gonna need it.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A/N: WHOOOO HOOOOO! (C Celeborn) Over 500 reviews!  
  
Thank you to all of you who have faithfully reviewed every single chapter, some of you from the beginning of the VERY beginning of this adventure. Thanks also to those who are here when they can be, and those who are just joining us. We love all of you, even those who are lurking about out there. Won't you join us and get a lub ledder of your own? It's just like a great big happy family, complete with all its quirks and problems.  
  
Ah, love abounds. I feel so warm and loved. You should see Prance . . . He's positively glowing, radiating "guudniss" and "lub" and "haeppiniss".  
  
I know, I know. You're all saying, "Come on now, al. On with the show."  
  
Lub Ledders Frum Legolas  
  
JastaElf: I just love the way he poured out of your arms and puddled on the floor there, sort of like Rocky Road brownie batter or something. . . .*clambureeng noeze* Deed sumbudie sae Broewneez? *waevz* Hae Jasta! Hae Ada! Sea, u deedn't nead tu enkreese da Baud Raet at all . . . . I weant hoem jest like I neuw u wuld waent me tu. Beasidz, I wuzn't ruennin awae tu git awae, I wuz goen awae tu make da praeshur oen al git bedder. She neadz me! *beemz* Im mel le, Ada! *claepz u oen da shoeldur worrier stile* Im mel le, Jasta! *givz u a beeg skweez an a pek oen da cheak, seanse Ada iz wachin*  
  
Jaded Scorpio: *al whacks JS with a rolled-up newspaper* It's NOT that kind of story! (Like I didn't know exactly what you were referring to! LOL!) Whut ar u hitten her fur, al? She sed fur me tu stae hear! I was just helping her with that cough she had there, nin caun, see where she says "ACK!"? *huegz u so ur koff weel git bedder*  
  
Threthiel M. Belowen: *ruenz abot feexin cheekin stu* I noe whut weel maek u all bedder! Sum of my cheekin stu! *spuunz sum entu u* Fealin bedder yaet? *huegz u*  
  
Lady Silence: *bleenkz. Ruebz haed whur u wapped me* OEEW! *cheuwz cuukee an theenkz a wile* Okae, den. . . .* huegz u bak an foelloewz al tu da car*  
  
Lady Peredhel: *glaerz at Haldir* U bedder stoep wid dat heet, Maerch Waerdin. Dat'z noet fare fieting teckneek. U cheet win u uze da heet spaell tu reeveel da forestee-grean lawnjerie. Doen't krie, mellon nin. *beeg hueg an kees fur u*  
  
daw the minstrel: We tell people he's from Switzerland, dear, remember the ice cream chapter (ch 16)? No one's commented on the ears, at least not out loud. Our family has a reputation for taking in strays, so no one seems to really think anything of it. PP haez a meeny baelrog? Oeh boey! An da tweenz, doen't furgit da tweenz! *recowntz muney, powtz*  
  
TreeHugger: I laeft her a noet! It'z noet my fawlt she deedn't luuk fur it. An I wuzn't ruenning-I waelkd da hole wae. All da nayburz wear glaed tu sea me coem hoem. Dey lub me tu! *huegz u* Whut nuembur tikit deed u sae u have, Tree?  
  
Im: I wuz jest tryin tu maek da praeshur oen al goe awae. I gess hueminz sea theengz difrintlee. Leedle Peep wuz eggsited tu noe da keetie iz a gurl- she waentz tu noe whut culor deed u sae she iz? *snuegglz*  
  
Anon: Bealeeve me, u dunwanna noe. Dat treep u weant oen sowndz fuen buet tiering. *Huegz u an den sitz doewn tu wate fur u tu tale abot it*  
  
Michelle6: Mebbe won dae I weel git tu goe tu DizneyWurld an tale u all abot it. *eetz choklit an geevz u a choklit keez oen da cheak*  
  
Katani Petitedra: At da reesk of apeering bloendur dan I aelredy am, whie du u hav loetz of pikshurz of graep jaellie? *watez tu sea whut u weel sae*  
  
Leedle Peep: *bleenkz* *staerz at skreen* *watez* Starez sum moer* *watez* I think that spell might be working, honey, keep reading those Harry Potter's, ok?  
  
PuterPatty: *poekz PP* U okae??? I deedn't meen tu skaer u like dat! *reedz an theenkz* U doen't waent me tu coem, meleth? Wate, doen't krie, melethrin, u noe I kin't staend tu sea u krie!!! *paesiz, puellz leaft worrier brayd* I doen't uendurstaend!! I thot. . . . *theenkz agin* Hae! Whut if I koem an breeg al wid me?? Dat wuld wurk! *snoegz u, den ruenz tu luuk en da cusheenz of Yeas Deer'z chaer fur sum moer muney*  
  
anna: I lub da fierwurkz, buet dey ar soe lowd, eben moersoe dan da sowndz oen da baettlefeeld. U bea kaerful goeng oen da pateo ruuf. . .U culd faell an braek ur bak dueng dat! *snuegglz u*  
  
Nilmandra: I deed leav al a noet. She jest deedn't fiend it. I woen't be soe kaerleass agin. Haeveeng da wurd NO tiped tu u at leest 28 tiemz iz vary konvinsing. I em raedee fur my lublee maessaeg noew. *keesiz u, den wheepz oeff shurt an floepz fasedoewn oen da baed*  
  
The Karenator: *luukz uep frum my spoet oen da floar bie al'z feat* U goet me a shurt?? Woew!! I kin haerdlee wate tu trie it oen! I weel beahaev misef frum noew oen-doen't waent Ada gitting praeshur proebleamz tu. *huegz u*  
  
Dragon-of-the-north: Okae, soe I em noet leabeeng. I proemis tu be sinsabell. *sieze* ( nead a hueg aftur dat staetmint. *huegs u*  
  
Digital Jessie: *eyebalz shuegur* Thaenk u fur da shuegur. I theenk I weel saev it fur lader . . . .U okae noew? *patz ur bak*  
  
leail: I thot dat wuz Irena whoe wuz goenna eet me alive. . .or wuz it PP aftur all? *theenkz* Noew I'm cunfuzed! *patz Preensis Elizabeth cuerld uep oen my laep* Ur rite, Arwenamin, I muest stae hear, at leest fur da Preensis whoe needz her Prance. *hepz mislef tu anuthur won of ur loeng deap candee-keesiz* al sez soerrie u haed tu wate fur dis. . . *g*  
  
Arianna DyBane: I wuz jest trieng tu maek theengz bedder, buet I wuz wroeng. Sumtiemz elfz maess uep tu. *huegz*  
  
Kimmaree: If u theenk I hav an aksent, u shuld trie feegureeng owt whut u modern-erth peepl ar taelking abot. Welkum tu owr stoeree! *waevz an gievz u a hueg fur ur effurtz*  
  
IRENA: IRENA BAYBEE!!! WHUR DUE U WAENT ME TU PUET DIS 1974 FOERD MAEVERIK BUEMPUR, BAYBEE, IT'Z GITTIN HAEVIE! U noe, leail wuz rite, PP an u wuld eet me aliev I thaenk. . . .*kaerfuelly geevz u a pek oen da cheak, wachin owt fur ur haendz dat are hiedin doze haendcuefz beahiend ur bak!  
  
Fadesintothewest: I herd u, an da othur 28 or moer peepl dat sed NO. I theenk if da laedeez at da hoespitul neuw I wuz at da bues stashun, dey wuld bea gievin me sum of whut dey give al an draeggin me hoem tu.I wuld bea haepee tu brayd ur hare. Seand heem rite ovur. I lub fuezee buenniez. *weenkz*  
  
Newmoon: Okae! Okae! U noe dis iz da kiend of thaeng dat cawzes an elf'z hare tu faell owt. I'll goe bak, jest doen't stoep ritin lub ledderz tu me, okae??? *neadz a kueddl aftur dat*  
  
Skye Rocket: *nikz ur hoet pokit* Woew, deze ar guud! I em glaed u lub da stoeree! *bloewz ua a keez*  
  
angaloth: I kin't goe bak tu Meedle erth, buet I hav goen Hoem noew, soe due noet dispare ani loengur. Dat guey whoe theenkz he iz me maekz a fien pierit, doen't u theenk? *hi fievz u*  
  
Sperry Dee: Roxie kin due a bakfleep? Woew! Deed all of da leedle Naz- buenniez fiend guud hoemz? I hoep soe. Thaenkz fur da oeffur tu leat me stae wid u en Minnasoda. Dat's nise! *huegz u*  
  
LOTRQueen14: I em glaed u lub it, an hear iz anuthr chaeptur, okae? *skweeze fur u*  
  
Lady in Red: Eberybuddie duz lub me hear, doen't dey? Wael, eggsept fur dat maen at da feesh stoer, he wuz noet tu haeppie abot da nosepreentz an feengurpreentz oen all da akwareeumz bie da tiem I goet dun luukin at all da feesh, buet everybuddie ealse duz! *kueddlz u*  
  
Space-Case7029: Ar u okae aftur ur wrek? Wear u warein ur seet baelt? I hoep da peepul at da maell deed noet maek u paey fur da kar! U kin't rase a kar vary guud en da maell wid all doze peepul waelkin abot. Noe wuendur u hiet da waell. *beeg hueg*  
  
Caranwen: I saew dat guey whoe theenkz he iz me en da moovee tu! I thot he haed a nise buet-I doen't theenk I nead tu kik it. I culd teech heem a theeng or tu abot noet dueng anithaeng stoopid. *geeglz*  
  
Holly :o) : Okae, eberybuddie winz. I em staeying hear wid al. Wheww, dat hueg wuz aelmoest like waerin a korseat! *patz ur bak*  
  
Laura: Ur rite, I wuld mees da baelroeg shoertz an da baelroeg breetchiz tu. An all my haetz, I furgoet abot all of dem. Okae, I'll stae wid al. Dat wuz eezy. *huegz an keesiz*  
  
Lina Skye: Yaes, dat iz fizicully poessibul, buet u kin git huert dueing dat, jest ask Araporn. GOE GAEMKOKZ! Fuutbaell tiem iz fienallie hear! YAEH!!! *hi fievz u*  
  
Ren: U sed noe 5 tiemz buet I ownlee cowntid it az won tiem, okae? I em rite bak hear whur I bealoeng, thaenkz fur ur advize. *sweat keesiz fur u*  
  
Magical Rachel: Deed u hav fuen en Flawrida? Deed u goe tu DizneyWurld? I soe wanna goe dere. I wundur hoew muech a bues tikit wuld coest tu goe tu DizneyWurld frum hear? I steel hav $1.33. . . . *praensiz oeff tu cownt it agin*  
  
Legolana Greenleaf: Hae, u noe, I woen't goe! (hae, dat rimhd tu!) Whur deed u goe? *sietz doewn wid a haendful of hoers-shaepd pnuet budder kupz an watez fur u tu tale ur tail*  
  
Pineapple Princess: Wealkum! Wea ar soe glaed u fownd us. al jest caelz da ferst stoeree "Lego's Bio" an da saekund "Lego's Tales". I weel pertekt u, nin mel. Jest seat an aroe tu da boe dere fur dat "meeny me" and goe tu sleap wid me cluetchd en ur haend. *huegz u*  
  
Chan: Okae, u have coenvinsed me tu goe bak tu al'z. I reely deed lub doze huege huegz u gaev me! *huegz u agin*  
  
Anja: I meesd u tuu! Hoew ez skool goeng? I hoep u like it aloet. Lub u tu! Hoew iz ur mum's aerm? *keesiz an kueddlz*  
  
Brem Nakada: U kin neber hav enuf reevewerz, at leest dat's whut I theenk. I em soe glaed u rote tu me! I thot I saew u luerkeeng owt dere! *teeklz u*  
  
Deb: Oeh, doen't biet ur naelz! Noe, noe, mellon nin! Dat's baed, it maekz u luuk like u mite wurk fur a liveeng, and wea elvz kin't hav dat. Neber leat dem sea u swaet, nin mel. Noew abot dat qwestshun. . . I wuz bizzy, u noe??? *bloewz u a kees*  
  
VladimirsAngel: U goet a neuw baeg AN neuw jeenz? WOEW!!! I em jaelus! *luukz at al* Wael, she duzn't LUUK seick, thoe her eyez ar sorda glazed ovur dere frum da maedasin. *poekz her tu maek shur she'z breethin* *sneekz a kees frum u*  
  
sound of the skies: U bot me a dikshunery? Oeh boey! *daensiz haeppily* I wuz jest tryin tu maek theengz bedder fur al. Suemtiemz I meass uep, aftur all I em a Prance. *wheespurz tu al. . .Whut'z a dikshunery?*  
  
Ms November Tuesday: I deedn't furgit u-PP haz da #1 tikit an u weal hav tu git en lien beahiend her an den Irena an wate ur tuern. Dey jest waenna bea frendz tu, u noe, eben if dey doen't hav eni hoersiz. Irena haz sum hoers POEWR, tho. She toeld me soe. *huegz u*  
  
Grammar Laedee: Dat'z rite! I shuld due like Yeas Deer an ruen awae tu Grammar'z howse! al toeld me abot da tiem she an Yeas Deer goet maed at eech uthr raen awae frum hoem at da saem tiem an he beet her tu ur howse an taddled oen her furst. She lafz whin she taelz it. . . NOEW. *geeglz*  
  
Cara6: Oew! Hoew deed u git ur nea doewn en da baerz? Oeh, wate, nebermiend. Prowbablee jest like I deed whin I wuz an elfleeng. U sea, I wuz jest meindin my oewn bizniss, an dere wuz dis haeree speider dat droeppd doewn frum da seeleeng en da koernur, an whin I leepd tu git my boe an aroz, my nea goet stuk dere, jest like u. Iz dat whut haeppind? Hearz sum huegz an keesiz fur u. . . XOXOXOXOXO  
  
leail: Deed u mees me soe muech dat u weant bak an luukd tu sea if u culd rite me agin fur anuthr keez? Heehee! U ar a slye won, Amelamin!  
  
The Two Princesses: I GOET UR PRAESINT!!!!!! Hannon le!! al woent laet me tail u hoew muech I lub da bbbbbbbb, an da hhhhhhhhhhhhh, an da ccccccccc, cuz she sez she iz goenna tail dat stoeree suun hersef. I gess we weal hav tu wate jest a leedle biet. Hannon le!!! I em soe eggsited! Dose wear da beast praesintz eber! Woew! Hannon le!!! *throews XXXXXXXXXX'z an OOOOOOOOOO'z eberyware!!!*  
  
Phoenix Flight: I em soe glaed tu sea u agin! I meesd u! I tuuk ur advize an weant strate bak tu al (wael, noet reely, buet dat doez sownd guud, doezn't it?) Thaenkz fur beeing da won whoe haelpd me git 500 reeveewz! *gievz u a beeg sloeppy kees on da cheak!*  
  
raukoiel: Hae, bizzy! Wealkum bak-I meesd u! Whut nuembur iz ur tikit? I theenk PP stoel abot a haf a rowl, soe mebbe u ar noet az faer doewn az u theenk. My buem? Whie shuld I theenk abot my buem? *al pokes Prance* Don't worry, sweet pea, everybody else is thinking about that for you-just go on about your business and don't worry anymore.Okae! *huegz u*  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The next chapter is about half finished, so bring on those lub ledders, and I'll keep on typing away! Thanks for all the nice words of encouragement and well wishes. I really do appreciate you all, and so does Legolas!  
  
Bie, eberybuddie! *waevz da leedle puerpul haend baeluun at u* 


	13. Really

A/N: The "Oeh yaeh, baybee" coming up is (c Legolas). Miruvor is an elven cordial from Imladris, the same one given to the Company by Gandalf upon Caradhras to revive them and cause them to find "fresh hope and vigor." You can find the reference to miruvor in the chapter entitled, "The Ring Goes South".  
  
Special thanks once again to PuterPatty and leailelf, and to Grammar Laedee, who once again still managed to come up with the one thing that the three of us "young-uns" missed.  
  
Chapter 13 Really  
  
Four more weeks pass and I still have the pain from the stone in my back and in the lower right front of my belly. Nothing severe like that first couple of days, but it's just there all the time and distracting as all-get- out. It's not like I don't have enough distractions already, if you know what I mean.  
  
At my next appointment with Dr. Henry the urologist, my X-rays still show the darned thing basking away in the right ureter, sitting about an inch up from my bladder. Dr. Henry decides the stone's not going anywhere and wants to proceed with surgery to get it out. He's worried that I have a "silent stone", one that causes minor pain while slowly and efficiently stopping the flow of urine and quietly killing the kidney. There's no blood work to test for this, since the other kidney will pick up the slack and everything looks normal even though it's not.  
  
I'm scheduled for upcoming Monday afternoon, the week before Easter, five days from now.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Life goes on as I try to maintain as normal a schedule as possible and the rest of the family picks up the slack. Early Thursday morning before everybody takes off to start their day, I hear whispering coming from the vicinity of the laundry room, located outside just off the carport. I can't help but eavesdrop.  
  
"You see, if you're the only one who does the laundry, then you're the only one who gets to ride," whispers a deep voice with an American accent.  
  
"Reely?" comes the reply in soft Mirkwood tenor, punctuated with excitement. "Oeh, boey!"  
  
Uh-oh.  
  
"You have to separate the dark colors from the light colors. Put the jeans in the same load, and put the towels in a different one. Then the nice clothes that are thinner and more delicate can go in another load all by themselves. That way you'll get to ride a lot of times, right?"  
  
"Oeh, boey!" he says again. "Reely?"  
  
"You turn this dial and get the water to start like this," says the deep voice, which is unmistakably my husband's. "Then you scoop up enough of this powdered soap to fill this little green measuring cup to this line right here, and drop that in with the water while it's still pouring in. Here, you try it."  
  
"Okae!" comes the tenor reply. A few seconds later, the hesitancy is audible in his voice. "Whut if I maess uep?"  
  
"Then we drain all the water out of the tub and you can try again. Look, Legolas. You're an elf. Elves are known for their cleanliness, not to mention their sense of high fashion. Who else would be better suited to keeping our clothes clean and stylish than you?"  
  
There's a long pause, followed by, "al, I gess."  
  
"Forget al," Yes Dear says. "She can't do it right now. You're the man, okay?"  
  
If the wall between us wasn't made of brick, I swear I could see the exact face the elf makes at this bit of information.  
  
"U meen I em da elf," he corrects.  
  
"Fine. Whatever. Do you wanna ride or not?"  
  
"Oeh yaeh, baybee. U noe I waenna ried!"  
  
"Then put the soap in, would ya?"  
  
"Oeh, yaeh. Soerrie." I hear him tap the little plastic measuring cup against the side of the washer to get all of the powder residue out. "Noew due I puet en da clothez?"  
  
"Yep," answers the King of Scheme. "Make sure you don't put in too many, though. If you overload the washer, the clothes can't move around freely in there and they won't rinse clean." He pauses a second, looking I'm sure at Legolas and his mask of confusion about this little addition to his most recent lesson. "You know what I mean. If you put too many in at once, you won't get to ride as many times, right?"  
  
The release of this little tidbit of secret intelligence produces a tiny squeal of delight from Prance Helpful.  
  
"Iz dis rite?" he whispers eagerly.  
  
"Perfect," says the King. "See? You really are gonna be good at this job."  
  
"Reely?" He pauses for a few seconds, then asks, "Whut due I due noew?"  
  
"Stand right there and watch this dial. When it gets to here, you can climb up and sit on the lid. When it gets to here, that's when the fun begins."  
  
If it weren't for that brick wall, I'd be able to see the pair of Cheshire cat grins stretching ear to ear across both of their faces.  
  
It doesn't take long before I have the cleanest fabric in the entire county, and I do mean fabric and not clothes when I say that. He's washed everything. If he could have pulled up the carpet and put it in the washer instead of helping me vacuum, I think he would have tried that too. I finally have to make a limit of no less than 10 pieces of fabric in the washer in a single load. That rule came about when I caught him washing his underwear one brief at a time.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
On Thursday evening, I find myself at handbell practice literally wrestling with my bells. The piece our director has chosen for Easter Sunday morning has got to be the most difficult piece I've ever played. At least one of my six bells rings in every single measure of the twelve page piece, and there's even one place where there's a run of the sharps, naturals, and flats of all six of them within a single measure.  
  
"This piece should be rung with great solemnity," she intones as we pick up our bells and prepare to play.  
  
My nose stays pressed a half-inch off the music the whole time we're practicing, and I always seem to be the only one in the whole group getting off beat despite the fact that I'm standing straight in front of the director. As she stops us yet again for my speeding up mid-piece, it hits me.  
  
The pain is back.  
  
Not bad, but definitely there. Within two or three minutes, I'm squatting down and standing up repeatedly, shifting side to side the whole time regardless of which vertical position I'm in. At the same time, I'm still ringing six different bells, and occasionally one of my neighbor's next to me.  
  
Did I mention the mallets? Oh yeah, baby (c al), we had mallets too.  
  
"U okae, al?" whispers Legolas as we're ringing along, handling his own ten- bell octave without batting an eyelash. How he plays that many (often with two of the big bass bells in each hand all at the same time) AND carries on a conversation is beyond me.  
  
"Yeah," I squeak, as I return to standing and shift to my left toward him so I don't have to raise my voice.  
  
"Reely?" he asks, concerned now. "U doen't luuk okae."  
  
The director stops us. "You know, al, if you could avoid squirming while you play, I think the congregation would get more out of this. After all, 'Ah, Holy Jesus' is not exactly a dance number."  
  
Boy, what I wouldn't do for a dose of something strong right now. Miruvor would certainly hit the spot. Of course, I didn't bring my pain medicine with me. The thought of taking it and having to ride in the van while Legolas drives home scares me more than passing a kidney stone without any pain medicine. I decide to try concentrating on the music and doing a few of those imagery and breathing tricks they taught us at Lamaze classes before Little Pip was born. "Four more days . . . four more days," becomes my mantra.  
  
It figures that by the time we make it home, the pain has returned to its normal persistent grumble. My miruvor stays in the bottle.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Monday finally comes. I don't have to be at the hospital until mid- afternoon, leaving me with a long morning of distracting myself so that I stay out of the refrigerator. I spend it double-checking with the insurance company and putting my affairs in order. Just in case, you know?  
  
PuterPatty's agreed to take Legolas to live with her, and promises to continue telling you all about his adventures for me should I not be able to do that myself. Yes Dear gets everything else I own anyway, so that part's already done.  
  
Legolas spends his day washing his bedsheets for the third time this week (yep, it's only MONDAY). He giggles like mad as he sits cross-legged on top of the washer while they spin dry beneath him. At least he's not getting yelled at anymore for eating Keebler elf cookies in front of me while I'm on mandatory fasting orders.  
  
An hour earlier than expected, Yes Dear comes barreling in the back door. "Are you ready?" he exclaims. "The hospital called on my cell phone-the person before you cancelled and they want you to come right now."  
  
"NOW?" I gulp. Suddenly I can think of a million things I still need to do, none of them involving the fridge.  
  
"Yes, NOW," he says, dragging me toward the door by the arm.  
  
Legolas comes flying down the hallway, his arms full of laundry that he's apparently intent on starting before we go. It takes me a moment before I realize what's wrong with the scene playing out before my eyes.  
  
The clothes in the basket are already folded. He's carrying them in the wrong direction.  
  
Before I can ask where he's planning on taking the clean laundry, he blurts out, "I goet da sootcaes, al!"  
  
"Suitcase?" inquires Yes Dear.  
  
"Yaes. al neadz sum pajaemuz tu ware, an a roeb, an deze sleepurz, an hear'z Leedle Peep's SeaDee player wid sum muzik, an . . . . " He's balancing the laundry basket on his hip with one hand and holding Yes Dear's Winnie the Pooh slippers in his other hand. "Hearz her tuufbruesh, and sum shaempuu, "he continues, shifting the slippers to the basket- holding hand and pawing through the bottom of the basket.  
  
I sometimes wonder how he ever survived on the Quest without a full entourage just to carry his accessories.  
  
"Honey," I tell him, stilling his rummaging hand, "I'm only going for a couple of hours. I'm not even staying overnight."  
  
"Reely? U meen u doen't nead dese?" he asks softly. He holds up the baby balrog britches. The look on his face tells me exactly how much time and thought he's put into selecting all of these things he thinks are necessary for my comfort. Poor Prance Helpful is feeling rejected.  
  
"You know, I think I WOULD feel better if we took them, even if we just left them in the car. Go put them in the trunk," I tell him.  
  
He happily bounces out the door, laundry basket firmly snuggled up underneath his arm by one clutching hand and Pooh slippers dangling from the other.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Yes Dear goes upstairs with me to the Outpatient surgery wing while Legolas starts his rounds down at Emergency Admissions. Once I've changed into my cute little gown and had yet another IV started, I hear a knock on the door.  
  
"Come in," I call, ready to tease the Prance about visiting with his girlfriends while I lay here sick in bed.  
  
The door opens and a great big "HELLO!!" comes booming in. It's Pastor Dan from church (those of you who know him will recognize his standard greeting and be able to read it aloud complete with the accompanying sound effects). I'm a bit surprised he's here, since I'm a pretty private person and most times I try to remain elven in character and pretend everything in life is going much better than it is. Never let them see you sweat, that's how I view things.  
  
I don't recall telling anyone I was having the stone removed today except Yes Dear, Little Pip, Grammar Laedee, and my boss at work.  
  
Oh, and Legolas.  
  
That's about the time the door bursts open and Prance Greeter comes barging in. He quickly slams the door shut, leaning back against it with arms and legs spread wide as if a herd of oliphaunts were about to come trumpeting in.  
  
"What are you doing?" I ask.  
  
"Dere'z a buench of gurlz foelloeweeng me!" he exclaims, rubbing the left side of his head. "Won of dem puelld owt a beeg chuenk of my hare!"  
  
Ahhh. Fangirls. I wondered how long he'd manage to avoid them.  
  
After ten minutes or so pass, he finally stops bodily blocking the door and comes over to join the conversation bedside.  
  
Reverend Dan soon decides it's probably a good time to have a prayer before the nurses come to take me to the operating room. He holds my hand as he prays for things to go smoothly, for the doctors and nurses to be blessed, for the stone to be gone and my health restored. When he says, "Amen," I can still hear whispering coming from the far end of the bed. I open my eyes to find Legolas with his head still bowed, eyes closed, lips gently moving. He holds still for just a moment more, then lifts his head and smiles at me.  
  
"U doent't thaenk God weel miend dat I askd da Valar fur ur blaessing tuu, due u?" he inquires innocently.  
  
Reverend Dan pats him on the arm and smiles, saying in his infinite wisdom, "It can't hurt, Legolas. It sure can't hurt."  
  
I don't remember a whole lot about the next hour or so except a flurry of activity followed by a stretcher ride down a green colored hallway and through a set of swinging doors that led into a bright yellow room. I remember a man's voice teasingly saying, "Here's that tranquilizer you were begging me for a little while ago," and then I remember waking up, hearing a woman calling my name and feeling horrendously awful.  
  
"Did he get it?" I gasp, my throat so dry I'm barely able to speak at all.  
  
"The doctor will be here to talk to you in a minute," she says. She gives me some pain medicine and some ice chips to suck on for my incredibly dry throat.  
  
"Did he save the stone so I can show it off?" I croak out.  
  
"He'll tell you all about it in just a little bit," she answers.  
  
A few minutes later I remember asking, "Was it really big?"  
  
She pats my arm. "Dr. Henry's on the way as soon as he finishes with the patient who was after you, I promise."  
  
I know the nurses aren't supposed to tell you much about your medical status without the doctor's permission, but the questions I'm asking seem pretty tame to me. I'm beginning to wonder what's going on.  
  
Soon I'm rolling back down the hall, feeling very sleepy still from that last dose of pain medicine. While I'm dozing away, drifting in and out, I catch a tiny morsel of the conversation currently wafting about my bed.  
  
"Reely??!!" Legolas exclaims. "She iz NOET goenna like dat!"  
  
"She'll be madder than a wet hen," says Yes Dear.  
  
"The Lord does miracles every single day," says Reverend Dan.  
  
I open one eye and watch all three of them shaking their heads, standing around my bed. "What are you guys talking about?" I mumble.  
  
The three of them clap their mouths shut so quickly it's a wonder no one needed stitches in their tongue, and they stand there staring blankly at each other.  
  
"Nuthin," gulps the Prance. To my skeptical glare he adds, "Nuthin, reely . . . ."  
  
About that time, Dr. Henry comes dragging in and leans heavily on the bedrail near my left knee. I perk right up. Here's the man with the answers to all my questions; at least, all my current ones.  
  
"Did you bring my stone?" I ask. "I want to add it to my collection. I only need three more for a nice sized cluster ring," I joke.  
  
He doesn't say a thing, just stares at his hands folded there with his arms propped up on the railing of my bed. After a long, long moment during which I wonder if I've fallen back asleep and this whole thing is really just a bad dream, he says dejectedly, "There was nothing there."  
  
Reverend Dan stands his ground there beside the bed, but I see Legolas and Yes Dear both take a step back from the bed, pressing themselves against the walls of my hospital room.  
  
Okay, so it really IS just a bad dream after all.  
  
I turn to Legolas. "Pinch me," I say, offering him my arm. "I must be asleep; you'll have to pinch me."  
  
He cautiously reaches out his hand and gives me a whopping pinch of a horsebite on the arm.  
  
"OWWW! I didn't mean so damned hard!" I exclaim, swatting at his offending hand.  
  
Okay, so this is NOT A DREAM.  
  
"What?" I say, unbelieving.  
  
Dr. Henry responds without looking up. "I even looked with the telescope. There's no stone. It's just . . . gone."  
  
When he realizes I'm too shocked to blow, Legolas reaches out and pats me with his long fingered hand.  
  
"Bie da Valar, al," he beams. "Dat spael Elrond tole me abot wurkd jest like he sed. Reely!!!"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Everybody's got their own theory. You get to have yours, too. I have the hospital bill right here *waves bill for $10,000, thanks God for insurance* if anyone wants to contest the reality of this particular event. Really.  
  
On to better things:  
  
Lub Ledderz frum Legolas  
  
Lady Peredhel: U reely theenk PP wuld haev enjoeyed haeving me stae wid her? I theenk she haed maed a loet of plaenz fur us tu due theengz tugethur. Proebublee theengz jest like da theengz u an Haldir due. *bloez u a keez*  
  
daw the minstrel: al sez tu tael u it WUZ a paeyn en da . . . , soerta. Sumbuddiez goetta hoevur. She sez da haerdist kwestshun tu aensur iz, "Kin I sea ur skar?" *geeglz*  
  
TreeHugger: al duz dis thaeng whur we ar waelkin aloeng, an if I git tu kloes, she staepz oevur en my spaece an nokz aginst me. I haet dat. I deedn't saey enithaeng abot her wate - I jest sed, "Woew!" Soe u liked my haet, deed u? Hoew abot dis neu won? *wheespirz - it IZ nise tu bea neadid!*  
  
Lady Silence: *oeffurz u sum M & M'z* U goet spiedurz? I kin taek kaer of dem. U shuld trie shaering ur Pikzie Steekz wid dem. *huegz u bak*  
  
JastaElf: *THUED* There he goes again. Oh, well. . . Yes, my BP is back to the borderline stage without the meds and nice and low with the meds. Got a checkup coming in a couple of weeks. *reaches down and helps the Prance sit up* Mmmmmm . . . Lembas Brownie Surprise, huh? WHUT??!! Deed u sae Lembas Broewnee Suerprize? *troetz oeff an reaturnz wid my kwivur, deegz owt my money* AAuueewwww! I doen't haev enuf tu coem sea u eethur! *waevz pieteefuelly at Ada an Jasta, smaelling da Lembas Broewnee Suerprize frum hear. . . . *  
  
Brem Nakada: Oeh, puhleaze doen't krie! I kin't staend dat!! It maekz me krie tu! Thaenkz fur da doell. He'z vary kuet. *maekz Will waev heez leedle haend* Whut'z dis? Em I sueppozed tu maeshur hoew muech da lawndree wayz tu? *siehz*  
  
Phoenix Flight: al sez ur waelkum! We ar bof glaed u ar enjoeyeeng reeding abot us. It'z jest everydae ole stueff, u noe? *huegz u*  
  
Nilmandra: Beeng wid al iz da baest plase tu bea. Whur aels wuld I git tu chaez da ise kreem truek oer due da lawndree? Sertinlee noet en Mirkwood! *al raps on the compy screen* Hey! Where's mine??! All he does is act pretty and be cute, and HE gets all the massage??? *geeglz!* An she keezd me tu! *keesiz u bak*  
  
ellbee: Luuk! Luuk, al! Ellbee is a neu faengurl!! Wooeh- hoooe! (c Celeborn) *bloez u a kees* I em soe glaed tu sea u! I em soe soerrie u wear hartbroekin, nin mel. I hoep dis chaeptur maekz u feal guud tuu!  
  
Lina Skye: al, iz she maekin fuen of me? Of course not, Prance! She's just happy. Oeh, okae, jest chekin. Yaeh! Goe Gaemkokz! *waevz gaernit an blak flaeg wid da bierd oen it!*  
  
Lily Frost: I hoep u weel fiend dis noet, mellon-nin. Guud luek wid ur oewn advintshur. I weal bea theenking of u! *keesiz u fur luek*  
  
SarWolf Snape: I dunnoe abot dat doktur'z oeffise. Dere ar thaengz en dere . . . . waell, thengz u jest shuldn't noe abot, okae?? *shueddrz*  
  
Sperry Dee: I hoep skool iz steel goeng waell fur u, an dat ur teechurz ar beang nise an noet geeving u tuu muech hoemwurk. Eberythaeng iz okae noew, u sea. *seandz u a hueg*  
  
Laura: I em glaed I culd stae wid al. It iz nise tu haev soe meeny peepul sae I culd stae wid dem tu! * She duz nead me, hueh??!*  
  
anna: I lub dis puerpul gluv, doen't u? *waevz it at u* I hoep eberythaeng at skool iz goeng okae. *huegz u fur guud luek oen ur taestz an thaengz*  
  
Space-Case7029: Oehhh . . . okae, I git it. It wuz a kar MOOVEE, rite? Wheuww. al sez thaenkz fur ur baest weeshiz, an saeyz eberythaeng iz muech bedder. *huegz u*  
  
The Karenator: Due u theenk won of al'z leedle yaello peelz wuld haelp Ada'z bluud praeshure tuu? Hummmm . . . I saew u at da gaem - u haed oen garnit an blak, hueh?? Me tuu!!  
  
Vladimirs Angel: Oeh! Dat'z a guud ideea! I kin rite my naem oen deze gluvz an sael dem oen e-Baey an den I weel haev enuf money tu goe sea PP an tu git sum Lembas Broewnee Suerprize frum Ada an Jasta! *keesiz u bak* Thaenkz!  
  
Michelle6: Mark Martin puet dat 6 dere. *BUWAHHAHAHAA!!* *haendz u sum moer choklit elf keesiz*  
  
Dunrosiel: U've sean da moovee a meelieon tiemz??! WOEW!! *luukz uep "fickle" en da dickshunaree* Oeh yaeh, baybee. (c Legolas) Dat'z me . . . fikle an treeky. Wach owt!!  
  
Holly :o) : al iz okae noew. I hoep u haed a haeppie Birfdae. . . *seengz* Haeppee Birfdae tu u, Haepee Birfdae tu u, Haepee Birfdae, deer Holly, Haepee Birfdae tu u!!  
  
Writer from Rivendell: Boey, dat treep sowndid like kwite an advinshur! I em glaed u deedn't git huert, and dat u fownd ur paentz. Yeepee Skeepee tu u tuu!  
  
Grammar Laedee: Bea kaerful, dere. U ar beageening tu spael like me. Peepul weel theenk we haev bean speandeeng wae tuu muech tiem tugeathur. Oeh, thaenkz fur da cheazkake. U reely weant tu a loet of truble puettin all doez leedle peesiz of paepur beatwean da sliesiz like dat. It taestid vary guud. *huegz*  
  
Angaloth: Deed u haev a guud paertee? Whut kiend of gaemz deed u plae? Deed u eet poepkoern? I hoep u haed fuen! *bloez u a kees*  
  
caranwen: *staendz en frunt of da fuell leangth meeror oen da baek of my doar* Hummm . . . *tuernz tu da laeft* *tuernz tu da rite* Waell . . . *raeziz da Thrandullion eyebroew, tuerning my bak tu da meeror an trieng tu luuk ober my shoeldur* Eef u sae soe . . . Due deze jeenz maek me luuk faet??  
  
Newmoon: *spluettrz, spheuuwz Mouwntaen Deuw all ober da coempy skrean, choekz an koffz* An aeffaer? Wid AL??? *luukz at al* Oeh, deer Valar, noe, mellon-nin. U doen't haev tu EBER woerrie abot DAT. Yaes Deer wuld skwash me like a bueg. Ware wuld I lieve den? (an al wuld huert me wurse dan Yaes Deer . . . .)  
  
Digital Jessie: Theengz ar loetz bedder noew. al iz a kuntroell freek an she doezn't like tu taek maedisin. Araporn an Elrond wuld haev a turribl tiem wid her. She iz fealeeng all bedder noew, thaenkz! *huegz u fur ur guud weeshiz*  
  
Fadesintothewest: yeah, doze laydeez at da hoespital wuld haev bean maed at me fur noet sayin guudbie. Soe u wuld haev bean maed at me tuu?? I due haev sum wite buennee eerz. Deed u sea dem? Leat me no if u deedn't, an I weel seand u a pikshur of me waerin dem. *snuegglz*  
  
Dragon-of-the-north: I em learnin theengz I NEBER waentid tu noe abot hueminz, beeleev me. Hoew deed ur eggzam goe? U luuk nise whin u smile an laf like dat . . . due it agin! *maekz a fuennie faes fur u tu laf at*  
  
Katani Petitedra: Okae . . . . *luukz arownd cawshushlee* Ar u shuer it wuz graep jaellie? Whut if it wuz straewbaerrie jaellie draessed uep tu luuk like graep jaellie? Hueh?  
  
The Two Princesses: *blueshiz, tuernz tu al an poekz her en da reebz wid my feengur* Dey sed I wuz KUET!!! *greanz* I doen't theenk u ar eber tu oeld fur baelluunz. I lub baelluunz! Juest like u kin neber bea tu oeld tu lub huegz an keesiz . . . . xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo! Deed u sea me bean a Pierit? I meen, dat boey whoe theenkz he iz me??  
  
sound of the skies: *eeatz da hoel boex of pikzie stikz, beaginz peengeeng oeff da waelz* Woooe! Wheeeaaa!! Deze ar guud! *bownsiz* Hannon le!  
  
raukoiel: OOeh! Hannon le! *hoeldz uep staer shaepd Sueper Haelpur steekur* Duz it goe hear? *putz it aginst foerhaed* Oer hear? *hoeldz it ober my hart* Oer hear . . . *eevil grean* HEY! Give me that! *geeglz* She said behave yourself!!  
  
ren: al sez I doen't waenna noe whut dat thaeng wuz en da draewr. I thaenk she'z rite. Eberythaeng iz baek tu noermal noew . . . . *greanz*  
  
Skye Rocket: Whoe kin aergue wid "I lub dis stoerrie!" ? Sertinlee noet me an al! *huegz u*  
  
Deb: NOE! NOE! Doen't biet ur naelz! Wea taelkd abot dis beafoar. I em goenna maek u waer sokz oen ur haendz ef u keap dat uep! U haev goet tu fiend sumptin aelse tu du tu keap ur mowf bizzy . . . .*roelz eyez wied az u fiend sumptin tu due wid ur leepz dat keapz MY leepz bizzy tu!*  
  
Enchanted.Kaos-star[Dot]Net aka Lando's Star: HAE! *waevz da puerpul baelluun haend* Waelkum! Luuk eberybuddie - luuk whoe'z neu!! Soe glaed u jownd us! *huegz u*  
  
Lil' Pip: I due lub dat Hairy Podder. He gitz en aelmoest az muech trubl az I due. An ur puerpul baelluun haend iz rite hear - buet u haev tu trayd me sumpthin tu git it. *eevil grean* Hummm, leat'z sea. . . .  
  
Magical Rachel: Deezneywurld! Oeh, WOEW! I em glaed u haed fuen. U kin e- male me enitiem. *huegz u bak*  
  
suzfau: Deed u ketchuep yaet? *waevz* I hoep u git tu sea dis! Waelkum tu da faengurl klueb!  
  
Cara6: Hi, Cara! I think I have to take the yellow pill BECAUSE of all the wild things that are constantly happening around here *pueshiz al froem da chare* Cara! Cara! Dere'z dis beeg speidur maekeeng a waeb oen owr dek, rite bie da hoet tueb! She iz az beeg az da paelm of my haend. She iz blak an yaello, an al sez she mite rite sumthaeng oen da waeb - da speidur, noet al.  
  
Andy8: I weel saev u won of deze baelluunz *waevz da puerpul haend at u* Due u eber peak en da doktur'z kabinitz? Dey haev all kiendz of thaengz en dere. . . .  
  
leail: LEAIL! LEAIL!!! Whur weel we goe wid all dis moeny, hunney?? *toessiz Moenopuly moeny eberyware* I hoep u ar fealeeng bedder, amelamin, an u kin giv me tuu keesiz nekz tiem, okae? *taekz ur haend an speenz u arownd, den deepz u uentil ur haed aelmoest tuchez da floar*  
  
PuterPatty: Bus, PP. It was a BUS station. It's a good thing he didn't make it up north, now that I think about it. *wriegglz an skwermz entu da chare, puesheeng al owt agin* U haev a leest? WOEW. . . . I em EEGUR tu pleeze . . . an eegur tuu, pleeze tuu! Whin kin al an I coem sea u? Noew? Noew?? Hoew abot NOEW??? *SNOEGZ U SAENSLISS*  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Thank you all for your well wishes, your hugs and kisses, and your covered dishes.  
  
Hae, al, dat rimez!  
  
I know. I planned it that way.  
  
Now get busy, everybody, and write your own "lub ledders" to Legolas, because I've already written the next chapter and it's a real doozy! 


	14. What's Your Score, Prance Legolas?

A/N: Thank you so much for all of your kind words and cookies and love during my little adventure that took the last 5 chapters to tell you about. It was about 4 months of life at our house there. We only have a very little time left together, so I hope to post much more frequently than you have been seeing us lately. Look for something about every 2 weeks or so, ok? Don't want you to miss your "lub ledderz"!  
  
The disclaimer thing once again: I don't own him, he owns himself. I just pay his room and board and feed him every time he's hungry. As you can see, there is no profit in that. Well, at least not any monetary profit. I wouldn't trade him for the world.  
  
Once again thanks to PuterPatty and leail for the beta job. It's nice to know I'm not the only one policing my commas. You guys rock my world!  
  
Now, for a little something much more delightful than the past bit has been, at least from MY point of view . . . .  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter 14 What's Your Score, Prance Legolas?  
  
It's a rainy Sunday afternoon, the NASCAR race was on last night instead of today, and there's not a single other interesting thing to do happening in the whole county.  
  
Well, THAT'S never stopped us before.  
  
"Let's go bowling," suggests Yes Dear.  
  
"Yeah! Let's go bowling!" chirps Lil' Pip.  
  
"Whut'z boewleeng?" inquires the Prance.  
  
"You'll love it," I say, grabbing my bookbag with my wallet in it. "Come on."  
  
The rain is coming down so hard on the drive up the Interstate that you can't see more than about three car lengths ahead of the nose of the car. For a minute Yes Dear considers pulling off to the side of the road until the shower passes, but that's too much like asking for directions, so he crawls along at 40 mph instead.  
  
"Woew!" exclaims Legolas. "If we haed buebblz, dis wuld bea bedder dan da kaer waesh!"  
  
Luckily the downpour ends about the time we arrive at the bowling center. Yes Dear grabs his bowling ball bag from the trunk, and we all follow him into the darkened building, much like a bunch of baby duckling's following their mother.  
  
The place is packed. There are at least four birthday parties going on, not to mention some kind of tournament with a prize package of over $2,500 in cash and incentives. It's a forty lane bowling center, so there are still a few places where three humans and an elf can squeeze in.  
  
We line up at the main counter, waiting for our lane assignment. Yes Dear decides to pre-pay for only a couple of games each, not knowing how we'll all hold up since it's been awhile since we've been here.  
  
"What size shoes?" asks the man behind the counter.  
  
Yes Dear gets a pair of 10's for himself, a pair of 8's for me, and a pair of 9 1/2's for Lil' 'Hobbitfoot' Pip. Leaning over, he whispers in my ear, "What size for Legolas?"  
  
"He wears a 12 narrow," I answer, watching the elf as he takes all of this in, standing quietly there beside me. He stares, wide-eyed and unblinking, down the fifteen lanes or so that extend off to our right hand side.  
  
Yes Dear hands each of us our shoes and we make our way down the far side of the alley to Lane #13. We're squeezed in between a husband/wife team competing in the tourney and a young mom and dad with four of the cutest little girls on the planet, all under the age of six.  
  
Sitting down on our little bench row of seats, we change our shoes first before going to select a house ball. All of us, that is, except Legolas.  
  
"What's the matter?" I ask, noting the discouraged look he wears.  
  
"I wuz wundureeng if I culd hav sum shoez like heez," he says, pointing to the wild neon monstrosities that Yes Dear wears. Orange on the big toe side and yellow on the other, with lime green heels and toes and hot pink shoelaces, they're honestly enough to make a grown woman sick to her stomach.  
  
"What's wrong with yours?" I ask, indicating with a nod of my head the nice maroon and navy pair he holds in his lap.  
  
"Dere noet az perty az da wonz he haz," pouts the Prance.  
  
Well, we can't just switch them, for Legolas' long delicate feet are a good two sizes bigger than Yes Dear's. I walk back with him to see if the alley desk has another brighter, more colorful pair.  
  
"We'd like to exchange these for a pair of those neon ones," I tell the desk clerk. He cocks me an eyebrow, not quite as effective as what I've become accustomed to but still readable. I know, I think it sounds loony too.  
  
"I don't have any more neon's available in a Men's 12," he says.  
  
The Prance's shoulders slump, his noble head hangs low. He's pathetic, really. We wander back to our lane where he dejectedly pulls off his blue- fading-to-black Nike Air Max Trance Running shoes and begins lacing on the subtle maroon and blue bowling ones.  
  
"Whut duz dis nuembr meen oen da heal hear?" he asks, holding his left bowling shoe up and inspecting it more closely as he stalls.  
  
"That's your shoe size. It makes it easier for the people who work here to put them away and to make sure you get the size you asked for," I tell him.  
  
I watch as his bright elven eyes peruse the heels of everyone on the left side of the bowling alley. Soon he nods, seemingly more content, and finishes tying the bow on his left shoe.  
  
Time to select a bowling ball. I start at the rack nearest our own lane and work my way to the left, looking for a nice ten-pounder that my fingers will fit. Legolas tails along behind me, watching as one at a time I roll each ball on the rack until the holes are visible, then line it up so the double holes are on top and the single thumb hole is below, and stick my fingers in.  
  
"al?" he asks. "Whie ar u maeking all da baelz lien uep like leedle faeciz?"  
  
I chuckle out loud, for he is quite right; all eight balls on the rack are now lined up looking like little surprised faces with wide-open eyes and mouths all saying "Ohhhh!"  
  
I show him how to insert his thumb and middle two fingers in the ball, demonstrating that the fingers must go in up to the second knuckle and the thumb must be able to move freely in order to be able to release the ball properly. At the end of the second rack, I find a rather non-descript reddish-colored ten pounder that has a nice feel to it, so I carry it to the ball return at our lane.  
  
After a minute or so, I look up to see Legolas has only made it one rack further down from where I found my own ball. I watch as he carefully rolls each and every house ball to line them up with all the little finger hole "faces" pointing exactly in the same direction. They look like a multi- racial bowling ball boys choir captured in mid-song. Then, once all are perfectly aligned, he slowly and carefully places his thumb into each of the thumb holes. After he has tried every one of the dozen or so thumb holes, he goes back to the very first ball and inserts his ring finger into the right side of each of the double set holes. Twelve balls later, he repeats the whole process with his middle finger.  
  
"Having trouble finding one?" I inquire.  
  
"Noe, noet reely," he answers. To my puzzled look, he elaborates by pointing to the deep purple one on the topmost row and saying, "Dat won feetz my thuemb jest fien." He moves on to point with his ring finger at a black one on the lowest row, saying, "Dat won feetz dis feengur," then finishes by dramatically waving his extended middle finger about in the air, exclaiming loudly in his frustration, "buet DIS won, wael der jest eezn't eni hoel dat dis won feetz at all!"  
  
Capturing his fluttering hand, I smile at how I have confused him. You know, it's the little things like this that endear him so to my heart.  
  
Moving to the next rack, I wait as Prance Helpful aligns all the balls just so, then I show him again how to fit his fingers into the ball, emphasizing this time the importance of all three fingers in the same ball at the same time.  
  
Sixteen dozen balls later, I come to realize the difficulty involved in fitting a house bowling ball to the fingers of an elf. You see, to get the thinness of his finger width, you have to sacrifice not only depth of the finger holes but also the weight of the ball. The only ball in the whole place that will remotely work is a six-pounder, colored an incredible shade of bright neon hot pink.  
  
"Dis weel neber due," says the Prance, shaking his blond locks side to side and sighing.  
  
"I know it's pink, Legolas, but really, it's the only one in here that fits your hand. No one in here is going to notice you're a guy playing with a hot pink ball," I cajole, pulling him back down the length of the entire bowling center to our lane.  
  
"Buet, al?!" he protests, dragging his feet and pulling back all the way. "Buet, al!?"  
  
Finally reaching lane #13, I drop the hot pink ball into the ball return. The Prance gives up and goes back to his seat on the bench to sulk. After a few moments, I crack.  
  
"What?" I exclaim in frustration. "Did anyone giggle? Has anyone noticed? Has anyone said one single word about you looking like a girl with your long blond hair, slim fingers, and a hot pink bowling ball???"  
  
"Well, I was gonna say. . . ," pipes in Yes Dear.  
  
"Shut up!" I holler at him.  
  
Legolas continues sulking. When I finally throw my hands up in desperation and go to sit at the far end of the bench from him, he mumbles something so low even elven ears couldn't have heard it.  
  
"What did you say?" I ask, fighting to regain my composure.  
  
"I sed, DAT baell doezn't goe wid DEZE shoez!" I stare at him, totally unprepared for that line of logic in his reasoning. "DAT baell goez wid DOZE shoez like Yeas Deer iz waerring," he concludes forlornly.  
  
Well, he IS right, you know.  
  
Yes Dear enters us all in the computer, putting Lil' Pip up first, typing in 'Arwen' for me and then 'Gandalf' for himself. Legolas snorts. Not passing up an opportunity, Yes Dear continues by typing in 'Orcbait' for Legolas last.  
  
"Hae!" protests the Prance. "Dat'z noet my naem!"  
  
"Now, 'Gandalf'," I plead, "don't tease. He's already having a hard time. Change it, please."  
  
"Yaeh!" seconds 'Orcbait'.  
  
"Not until he stops sulking and gets off his posterior and knocks down at least 50 pins," counters 'Gandalf'.  
  
Legolas contemplates this challenge for a second before wisely pointing out, "Der'z oenlee tin of doze thaengz owt dere. Hoew kin I nok doewn feeftee if dere ar oenlee tin tu begin wid?" He folds his arms across his chest as he snorts again.  
  
"Like this," says Lil' Pip, taking charge of the situation. She saunters up to the ball return, hefts her ball with both hands, shoves her fingers into the holes, walks up to the line, and with her trademark roundhouse wrist- snapper pitch, throws her ball. It bounces off the left bumper pad, crosses the lane, bounces off the right bumper and meanders back to hit the front pocket right between pins #1 and #3. Seven of the 'white men' with their red collars go sprawling. She dusts off her hands and marches back to the ball return, waiting.  
  
"Dat thaeng aet her baell!" babbles the Prance. He watches wide-eyed as the metal bar of the pin setter sweeps down and clears the fallen pins from the lane, carefully setting the remaining pins back in place.  
  
"Noew it'z eetin doze wite thaengz!" he gapes. As he stands open-mouthed, Lil' Pip's ball comes rumbling up the track and pops out of the hole on the ball return.  
  
"Woah . . . ," says 'Orcbait', taking a step back.  
  
"You don't wanna put your hand down in there," states Lil' Pip matter-of- factly, pointing at the deep cavernous mouth of the ball return.  
  
"Whie noet?" asks a confused Prance, moving forward once again to peer down into the blackness of the hole.  
  
"There's a cave troll down there," announces 'Gandalf'.  
  
"Woah . . . ," breathes 'Orcbait'.  
  
Lil' Pip rolls again, adding one more to her score for a total of eight in the first frame. I continue to amaze all with my true Mary Sue capabilities by completing my first frame by rolling a perfect strike with a ball I have never touched before today.  
  
(A/N: I remind you once again that this is a NON-FICTION story. I really did throw a strike on my first frame. I really, really did.)  
  
Yes Dear throws a spare and we all enjoy watching the little cartoon characters on the computerized score machine spell the work S-P-A-R-E with bouncing rubber balls in a rainbow of colors. Even Legolas is now smiling.  
  
At least he was. It's 'Orcbait's' turn to bowl.  
  
"Want me to help you?" asks Lil' Pip.  
  
"Noe, I kin due it," answers 'Orcbait'. "I'v bean wachin eberybuddie."  
  
'Orcbait' saunters up to the ball return in a perfect imitation of Lil' Pip. He picks up his hot pink ball with both hands, carefully slides his fingers into the holes, lifts the ball, and steps up onto the approach. He stands holding the ball under his chin and then bends his knees and does the same silly little bobbing motion Yes Dear always does. He shifts his weight and shuffles his feet just like I do, as if trying to decide which foot to step forward with first.  
  
Hey, I didn't think anyone knew I did that every single time.  
  
He steps off left foot first (just like I do, I think to myself), saunters up to the line, swings his right leg across behind him (just like Yes Dear), then . . . pulls the ball off his right hand using his left one.  
  
What?  
  
He swings his right leg back under him until his foot is firmly planted pointing straight ahead just like the left one, perfect shoulder widths apart. He sets the ball down on the foul line and, with a mighty shove, pushes the ball with both hands down the center of the aisle.  
  
Just like all four of the little girls in the lane to our left.  
  
Hmm . . . it seems 'Orcbait' hasn't missed a single trick, has he?  
  
Dusting his hands together, he turns and walks matter of factly back to sit down in his seat on the bench. His ball rolls on, abandoned, down the center of the lane, heading toward the pins. About halfway down the lane, it develops a mind of its own and starts a slow diving twist to the left. About three feet in front of the #7 pin, the ball drops gracefully into the gutter.  
  
The computer places a little (-) mark in the first ball space of 'Orcbait's' first frame. 'Orcbait' sulks.  
  
"It'z dese shoez," he grumbles. "Dey jest doen't goe wid dat baell!"  
  
The second ball of the first frame doesn't work out any finer than the first one did. Neither do the next 8 rolls he delivers. At the start of the fifth frame, 'Orcbait's' score is still a big fat zero.  
  
"We should let him use the beginner's gutter guards," whispers 'Gandalf'.  
  
"Don't you think he'd be terribly offended?" I whisper back.  
  
"Not if we play it right. Follow my lead," whispers the crafty old dodger.  
  
Turning to Lil' Pip, 'Gandalf' says moderately, "You know, I love that little duck that comes up beside your name when it's your turn to bowl."  
  
I hadn't noticed it before, but every time the gutter guards rise from their hidden spot in the channels on each side of the lane for Lil' Pip, a tiny yellow duck appears beside her name.  
  
'Orcbait' is suddenly all elven ears.  
  
I take my turn, and when I finish, 'Gandalf' takes his. Guess who's up next?  
  
As if by magic, the gutter guards appear in the channels on each side of the lane. 'Orcbait' stands beside the bench waiting to see if the little yellow duck will appear, and when it does, he smirks smugly as he steps up to the ball return for his opportunity.  
  
Lifts the ball. Sticks in the fingers. Steps up to the approach. Does the little Yes Dear bobbing thing. Shuffles his feet like me. Moves on to the delivery. This time he places the ball in the left channel and gives it his trademark shove with both hands. Right down the gutter.  
  
"I thot dose theengs wear goenna maek da baell nok ober sum of dose theengz," he ponders aloud, pointing first to the gutter guards and then to the pins.  
  
"No, dummy!" says Lil' Pip, unable to maintain proper bowling etiquette any longer and giving unsolicited advice now by the gallon for free. "You still roll it down the middle!"  
  
"Oeh . . . ," mutters the Prance.  
  
On the next roll he goes through the same motions, but the ball rolls pretty as you please to the right, to the left, and bounces back to the center just as it strikes the #4 pin, taking out the # 7 and #8 as it falls.  
  
'Orcbait' scores.  
  
"WHHHOOOEEE HOOOOOOEEEE!!!!" he shouts, leaping in the air and dancing around. The four little girls in the adjoining lane take up the dance, cheering aloud despite their parents efforts to calm them. They've been watching him the whole time we've been here, and all four have much higher scores than his own.  
  
He picks Li'l Pip up and gives her a good spin around. He high-fives Yes Dear and I, then turns to the couple in the adjoining lane competing in the tourney and shakes the husband's hand before giving the shocked wife a huge bear hug.  
  
"Deed u sea dat??" he exclaims, grinning madly. "Deed u sea dat??"  
  
'Orcbait's' sixth frame now has a great big "3" showing. He's been redeemed.  
  
That's about the time he discovers competition is involved.  
  
"Whut due deze nuembirz meen?" he asks 'Gandalf', pointing to the little numbers in the seventh frame of his score.  
  
"This means you knocked down 2 pins the first time you rolled, and 2 more the second time you rolled," 'Gandalf' patiently explains.  
  
"An dis meenz I noked doewn 3 peenz an den 2 moer?" he asks, pointing to the numbers in the eighth frame.  
  
"That's right. You're doing just fine," I answer him.  
  
He scowls at me. "U hav moer dan me. U hav moer dan enibuddie. U shuld shaer, doen't u theenk??" he protests, pointing a long finger at me.  
  
"Won't last. Watch," I tell him confidently.  
  
By the end of the first game, I lose to 'Gandalf' by only 3 pins, probably the closest I have ever come to beating him, and a record high score for me of 143. Lil' Pip gets a whopping 70, and 'Orcbait' . . .well, I'll let him tell you.  
  
When I find where he's wandered off to this time. . . .  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Here's what you've really been waiting for . . . who am I fooling?  
  
Lub Ledderz frum Legolas  
  
Enchanted.Kaos-star[Dot]Net: Doen't dyee! Dat wuld bea baed! U wuld haev tu goe tu da hoespitael, an u doen't like dem, remaembur? If u wate tuu weakz tu due da lawndree, u weel haev . . . *kowntz on feengurz* eben moer lawndree! *snuegglz*  
  
Kimmaree: I fownd al a spaerklee rok doewn bie da laek seanse she deen't git a keendnee stown. Id'z noet kwite da saem, buet I thaenk she likez it. *huegz u*  
  
JastaElf: *taekz paen of LBS* Hannon le, Jasta an Ada! *sliedz tu da floar* You know, Jasta, I never thought I'd see it, but he managed that slide without spilling a crumb or giving up a single bite. Near drove the dog and 4 cats crazy though . . . . *drags the Prance back into the chair and waves the pan of LBS around to stimulate him back to life* Oeh. . . . Oeh, soerrie. *tipez wid mowful of LBS* Hey! You're getting the keys all sticky there! *OOuupz!* Soerrie. Doen't u theenk Arapron culd uze sum worrier braydz, Jasta?*seandz lub an keesiz tu u an Ada*  
  
VladimirsAngel: He LOVES the washing. Make that LOVES the RIDING the washing MACHINE. I'm not sure he'd like riding the steam-iron in the same way *wreeglz wile u stroek my hare. . . * Mmmmm. . . dat fealz guud. I doent noe enithaeng abot feavurz. Hearz a hueg, maebee dat weel hep. *beeg huegz u vary gently*  
  
Lady Silence: Oeh boey! Haelowean? Agin?? Oeh boey!!! *ruenz oeff tu sea whut I waent tu bea dis yeer* I culd bea a doktur, oer a leaprikahn, oer a preensis, oer a pierit! Datz it! I waent tu bea a PIERIT! *gievz u a hiegh fiev!*  
  
daw the minstrel: Obsseene? Oeh noe, it'z FUEN!!! Sea? U jest staert da wader like dis, puet en da soep like dis, puet en da kloez like dis *pealz oeff kloez*, and den whin da leedle dyel gitz tu hear, u jest kleimb uep hear like dis. . . . LEGOLAS! Ooouuupz. Goetta goe . . . .  
  
ariarwen: *kaetchiz keesiz* Dere u ar! Wear u luerkin? It'z guud tu sea u! *huegz*  
  
TreeHugger: I kin vaekum, an duest, an waersh deeshiz, an skrueb da tueb tu. Jest doen't tael al, okae?? Elrond'z spaelz ar majikal. I jest weesh I haed tryd it erlear. Sae hae tu eberybuddie fur me, okae? *huegz*  
  
Katani Petitedra: Hear. Haev sum peenuet budder. Maebee dat weel hep. *oeffurz jaer*  
  
Newmoon: U wear joekin? Whoew, dat'z a reeleaf . . . . I deed sea da traylur . . . I hoep eberythang goez okae . . . . *reamiendz saelf noet tu biet feengurnaelz*  
  
Brem Nakada: A feeld treip? Whur ar we goen? Kin I hav a biet of dat buerreetoe beafoar w goe? *druulz*  
  
Writer from Rivendell: Rabbit faengurlz? Oeh noe, dat wuz da rakkuun oen da bak poarch dat haed raebeez, buet dat'z a hoel nuthr stoerree . . . Doen't wurk tuu haerd oen dat mafth dere . . . . *waevz tu u*  
  
Phoenix Flight: al sez a kluestur reeng iz abot all da stownz she kin maenage en won huemin lieftiem. I gess it haz neber takin her soe loeng beafoar. Dat wuz abot 3 moenthz, en huemin tiem. *kueddlz*  
  
Sperry Dee: *seengz* Haeppie Burfdae tu u, Haeppie Burfdae tu u, Haeppie Burfdae deer Sperry Dee, Haeppie Burfdae tu UUUUuuu!! *bloewz keesiz*  
  
Laura: al sez tu tael u dose wear sum of da baest guweey chokolit cheep kuukeez she haz eber shaerd! Hannon le, soe muech! *smuuchez u*  
  
The Karenator: Oeh! I LUB Teenkie-Weenkie! He iz soe kuet! Due u like my doktur owtfit? Maebee I weel goe fur Haelowean az a doktur . . . hae, maebee I weel bea Teenkie-Weenkie!! YAEH!!! *throewz keesiz tu u fur da woendurfuel ideea!*  
  
Space-Case 7029: If u lub da doktur owtfit, wate teel u sea me az Teenkie- Weenkie! U shuld trie dat lawndree ried, mellon-nin. Waaaee tuu kuuul! *huegz u*  
  
Holly :o) : U wuld theenk dat I doen't tawlk at all frum luukin at dose mooveez. All elf bizness an noe elf plae. Weal, I sae all elf bizness and noe plae maekz Legolas luuk like he kin at leest reamimbur heez lienz, doezn't u? *weenkz*  
  
Michelle6: Duz Matt noe abot us? Meabee u shuldn't tael heem . . . . *hiedz frum Matt*  
  
Magical Rachel: Mirakelz haeppin all da tiem - ebery tiem al kuuks it'z a mirakel. OEWW!! al!! An Sheffield - Hae! Hoew 'bot dem Blaedz? I hoep ur fealeeng bedder? *cueddlez u*  
  
Deb: al, uehm . . . u sea, um . . . al duzn't, uhhhh. . . .al duzn't haev a . . . .nebermiend. Kin I ask u a kwestshin? Hoew due u breeth if u kin't stoep keesing? An haev u goet sumptheeng en ur eye dere? *haendz u a teeshue*  
  
Lady Peredhel: al deed haev a stown -it'z dere oen da eggzrae. Dat wuz whut wuz kawzeeng da payne. U muest tael Haldir dat he ez reely meesing sumpthaeng oen da waeshur. Shoew heem, nin-mellon. *pueshiz u an Hal tuward da waeshur* due it jest like I toeld daw uep dere . . . .  
  
Harry's Angel 69: Woooe Hoeee! (c Celeborn) Dere'z anuthur faengurl deeluerkin! Waelkum, mellon-nin! *bloewz keesiz*  
  
The Two Princesses: Tael M u ar neber tuu yung tu lern tu ried da waesheeng masheen. I em oenlee soerrie I wuz hear a hoel yeer beafoar eniwon toeld me abot it. I mite bea a Pierit fur Haelowean - oer I mite bea Teenkie-Weenkie da Taelleetuebbie, I dunno yaet. Whut ar u goenna bea? al sez yaeh, it duz seam like she'z bean thru all dat fur nuthin, buet it'z goen noew soe eberythang iz bak tu noermul . . . wael, soert of noermul. Hearz sum huegz an keesiz fur u, bea shure tu shaer! *XOXOXXOOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOOXOOXOX*  
  
caranwen: al! al! She sed I em purfikt! Sea?? I toel u soe! Hannon le, caranwen! *smuuchez*  
  
Grammar Laedee: Due all huemanz blaeme eberythaeng oen beeng oeld an haeving peesiz meesing? al sez dat all da tiem whin she maessiz thaengz uep. Thaenk u fur ur kiend wurdz abot my guud luukz . . . wate teel u sea me az a Taeleetuebbie! *keesiz ur cheak*  
  
Anna: It muesta bean Elrond'z spaell. Deed u haev a guud tiem oen ur dayz oeff? I hoep soe! *huegz*  
  
Wiccan 107: I hoep u keapt reedin an u weel fiend dis massage fur u eaveantuelly. It'z guud tu haev u wid us! *skweezez u*  
  
Taylor: Hae, Taylor! I em glaed u seant me a massage oen da e-male. Doen't huert ursaelf, okae? *huegz u*  
  
Anja: I deedn't noe ur Ada wuz a heelur?! Woew! I em glaed tu heer ur mum iz doen bedder. I baet she meesiz u. *snuegglz u*  
  
PuterPatty: U haev tu steek kwaertur en ur musheen? Dat sowndz payneful! Dat al iz amaezeeng, izn't she? Whoe aelse due u noe kuld loowz a keednee stown? I baet eben Maeree Seuw doezn't noe hoew tu due dat. We meesid sumpthaeng? *dievz uendur da daesk luukin fur whut we meesd* I doen't noe whut u meen . . . . Dere'z dis peese of paypur doewn hear . . . luukz like sum kiend of a leest . . . *reedz, greanz an puetz da leest doewn da frunt of my jeenz fur saefkeapin* Coem an git it, baybee!  
  
Nilmandra: My faevurit paert iz whin da aere bloewz uep thru da crakz arond da eadge of da lied of da waesheeng musheen. Dat teekulz! Yaes, I wuz vary guud oen al'z birfdae, buet I em NOET taellin abot whut I gaev her! *weenkz misscheeveeusly*  
  
leail: weel u ried da musheen wid me if I coem? Whin we feenish wid da lawndree, I culd shoew u sum uthr deepz I noe! *speenz u arond an deepz u agin*  
  
Cara6: We weel haev tu chaeng ur naem tu Cara7 noew, rite? Whin ur moem seant me da pikshur of u, I thot u wear goen tu bea 9 dis yeer! Woew, u ar soe groan uep! I doen't sea eni bandanaz en dis spiedur waeb. al sez she'z a riteeng speidur, buet soe far she duzn't rite eni bedder dan I due. I em glaed u haed a Haepee Burfdae! *doez da bierd danze wid u*  
  
Andy8: U weel haev tu theenk of a wae tu peak, den. Dere ar sum vary eentureasteeng theengz en dose caebinetz! *puetz owr paelmz tugaethur, sliedz my haend unteel oenlee owr feengurz tuch, fleepz my haend ober an smakz u oen da bak of da haend, den shaekz haendz wid u agin*  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Answer quick! We're on a deadline here! 


	15. If the Shoe Fits

A/N: Very special thanks to my lovely beta, the most creative and talented PuterPatty. She admits to going over this whole thing somewhere in the neighborhood of three times looking for something to complain about. I think she was just giggling so hard the first two times that she couldn't see through the tears in her eyes. She's also responsible for helping me size the photos for the bio page so that you can enjoy poor "faek me" and his latest round of torture. Don't miss Legolas' Halloween costume for this year, posted with this chapter. Thanks, nin-mel!  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter 15 If the Shoe Fits  
  
Jeepers. Not again.  
  
Legolas has got the most incredible knack for disappearing, hasn't he? Sometimes I swear I'm gonna get him a leash.  
  
While Yes Dear clears the old scores and sets up the next game, I start my search. "Did anyone see where Legolas wandered off to?" I ask the neighboring bowlers. Everyone shakes their head no.  
  
"Maybe he went to the bathroom," pipes in one of the cute little girls, the one with the braided pigtails in her dark brown hair.  
  
"Maybe he's playing one of those games you have to put money in, "says the one in the pink 'Hello Kitty' shirt.  
  
"Maybe he went to the snack bar to get some French fries," says the tallest one. "I wouldn't mind having some French fries with ketchup right now."  
  
"Mommy, I gotta go to the bathroom too," says the teeny-tiny little one, tugging on her mother's arm.  
  
I try the snack bar first, since it's closest. Surely by now he's gotten hungry and the smell of chilidogs and popcorn are calling his stomach by name. If he's found out they sell whole dill pickles, there'll be no leaving until the jar is empty, I'm sure.  
  
There's no Legolas at the snack bar. I head over to the adjoining pool room, thinking surely the green felt-covered tables with all the multicolored striped and solid balls would hold his attention if he spotted them. I half-expect to find him stretched out across a table, cue stick in hand, trying some impossible trick shot just like the pros, surrrounded by half-a-dozen female spectators staring blatantly at the display instead of the demonstration.  
  
Still no Legolas.  
  
I catch up with Yes Dear on his way to the check the men's restroom and, after a brief conference, I decide to see if the Prance has mistakenly wandered into the ladies room by accident. No luck for either of us.  
  
"You don't think he went out to the car, do you?" Yes Dear asks.  
  
"Gosh, I hope not," I answer. "It's pouring down rain. Plus his Nike Air's are still sitting underneath his chair. He took so long picking them out, I KNOW he wouldn't walk off and leave those."  
  
As we leave the concession area, I happen to glance back to where Lil' Pip waits for us, sitting there in her chair at Lane #13. There in the seat beside her sits 'Orcbait', pulling off his maroon and navy bowling shoes.  
  
Thinking he's unhappy enough with his performance so far that he's in a hurry to go home, I trot over to our lane to reassure him that everybody takes a bit of time to get the knack of rolling a ball 60 feet and knocking down a row of pins. Except when I get to the chairs, I realize he's not given up quite yet. Not in the least.  
  
On the seat beside him sits a pair of the most hideous rental bowling shoes ever created. Not only are they neon green, orange, yellow, and pink, but they're patterned in HOUNDSTOOTH CHECK.  
  
"Luuk at da shoez da maen at da daesk foewnd jest fur me!" he crows, holding the putrid things aloft. "Noew u bedder wach owt, 'Arwen'," he teases. "Wonse my shoez an my baell maech, u ar noet gunna bea aebul tu beet me!"  
  
Gads, he's positively giddy.  
  
Lil' Pip rolls first, me second, Yes Dear third, and suddenly it's fashion conscious 'Orcbait's' turn. Proud as a peacock, he struts to the ball return, making sure to nod and smile at each of the little ladies watching enraptured to his left. He turns to the right and gives a wink to the tourney couple. Picks up the ball. Inserts his fingers. Begins his preparatory stance. Bobs, shuffles, and then adds a move of his own.  
  
He clicks his heels together, three times, just like Dorothy with her ruby red slippers in "The Wizard of Oz".  
  
The hot pink bowling ball rolls dead center down the aisle, hooking just slightly as it approaches the end, and proceeds to knock down six pins.  
  
"Whoooooe Hoooooe!" shouts the Prance. "Dey deed it! Da shoez wurk!" After a couple of seconds, he amends his previous statement with, "Oeh, coepierite Celeborn!"  
  
Yeah, I think he'd better not forget that, lest the Lord of the Galadhrim finds out he's guilty of copyright infringement.  
  
He goes on to repeat the intricate dance in the horrible bowling shoes, and this time from my place sitting just to the right and behind him I can actually read his lips as they form the words, "Thur'z noe plaese lik hoem." He clicks his heels together, one. . . two. . .three, then completes the first frame by taking down three more pins, giving him an opening score of nine.  
  
"Gosh, Legolas," breathes Lil' Pip. "That's more than your whole score last time, considering that last time you used the bumpers."  
  
"Noe it'z noet!" counters the Prance in typical big brother fashion. "Laest tiem I goet tweentie-foar."  
  
"Like I said. . . ," Lil' Pip mutters under her breath.  
  
His next frame gives him a first roll of four and a second roll of five pins down. He comes hurrying back to stare at the computer monitor overhead, only to be disappointed that it continues showing only the scoreboard.  
  
"What's the matter, Leggy?" Yes Dear asks.  
  
"Whut haeppind tu da leedle kaertuun peepul dat daense arond whin u nock da peenz doewn?" he asks plaintively.  
  
"You have to knock ALL of them down to get the cartoon guys to come dance for you, man," Yes Dear answers him, clapping him on the back and smirking.  
  
"Oeh. . . ," mutters the Prance in his mystical bowling shoes.  
  
Hey, that sounds like the name of a rock group. Prance Legolas and the Magical Mystical Absolutely Disgustingly Horrible Houndstooth Check Bowling Shoes.  
  
Or maybe not.  
  
Anyway, the third frame with the new magical but disgustingly awful bowling shoes is a combination of two pins on the first throw and seven in the second. Not doing too badly this time. Well, not until this point anyway. This point is where I look up to see him sitting in the chair beside me, swallowing hard with tears in his eyes.  
  
"Legolas! For heaven's sake, what's the matter?" I exclaim, thinking the miracle of actually scoring is becoming too much for him, or maybe he's upset because he can't make that last pin drop so that the cartoon characters will perform their antics when it's his turn. Maybe he's afraid that when he returns to Middle-earth there will be a bright green neon- colored tattoo across his forehead that says, 'I Went to Modern-earth and All I Got Was a Gutterball'.  
  
He swallows again, hard and slow, like he's all choked up or something. I follow his gaze over to the lane next to us.  
  
"I waent won of doze," he gulps.  
  
The little girl with the braided brown pigtails in the lane beside us is currently sucking on the biggest dill pickle I think I have ever seen. The juice is running out of the wax paper wrapped around it and trickling down her arm. She's got her face all screwed up and her eyes are full of tears from the sour taste. My elfboy Legolas is tearing up as well.  
  
"Alright. Take a break and go get one," I tell him, handing him some money. He's out of his seat and bolting across the slick floor and onto the carpet and into the snack bar in a heartbeat.  
  
Ten minutes, five napkins, two tissues from my backpack, and a handwashing that includes scrubbing all the way to the elbows brings us to the fourth frame. His first throw leaves him with the dreaded baby split. For those who've never had the opportunity to face this, I'll explain. A single pin stands on the spot closest to the gutter on one side, with a pair of pins all the way across at the edge of the other gutter. It's next to impossible to knock all three of those remaining pins down in a single throw. Legolas steps aside to consult with the expert.  
  
"You go for the pair over there on the left, hit 'em real hard, and hope one will bounce over across with the momentum and take out the single #10 pin," Lil' Pip whispers into his long pointed ear, shielding her words from everyone else who's eavesdropping by holding the thumb side of her hand against her cheek and the pinky finger side just behind his tender flesh. He flinches with each puff of air from her words, especially the ones starting with the letter 'p'. "That's how all the pros do it, just like it says in the book."  
  
He takes his best shot, but the god-awful wizardly bowling shoes are good only for the #7/ #4 combo. The #10 still stands, mocking the ability of the shoes.  
  
Legolas mutters what sounds like an elven curse under his breath and returns to his seat.  
  
He bowls a three in the fifth with roll number one and knocks down six on the second roll. For the sixth frame, he knocks down nine pins with a fantastic throw that leaves the #7 pin wobbling in its track. Everyone holds their breath except Lil' Pip, who runs past him and begins jumping frantically up and down on the pine wood, stomping with both feet in an effort to increase the sway on the still-wriggling pin.  
  
No such luck. The pin setter moves down into place and resets #7, which mocks the bewitched bowling shoes just as its predecessor #10 did three frames ago.  
  
He mutters the elvish curse again.  
  
"What did you say?" I whisper as he comes to sit beside me.  
  
"Vys n'vanima ar' vys atara lanneina," he answers.  
  
"And . . . ?" I inquire.  
  
"An whut?" he replies, growling a bit as he avoids eye contact, crossing his arms over his chest with a grunt.  
  
"And what exactly does that mean?" I prod.  
  
"It meanz 'Ur ueglee an ur muthur draessiz u fuennie'," he says with a smirk.  
  
I'm beginning to think he's enjoying himself entirely too much.  
  
The Prance's seventh frame includes six pins down followed by three more on the second roll, and he's soon stepping onto the approach for the eighth frame. Suddenly, things go awry. Legolas throws the first gutter ball of the second game.  
  
"Whut wuz DAT??!!" he exclaims to himself. Looking over at him, I realize that he has his head down between his knees and he's actually talking to the Magical Horrible Bowling Shoes. He sighs dejectedly when they fail to answer him. He manages to pull off nine pins on the next throw, so maybe it was just a fluke.  
  
It isn't until the ninth frame when the ball rolls down to the very end, hugging the outermost top edge of the gutter to clip the #10 pin by an elf- hairs breadth, that I realize what's gone wrong. He's changed his routine. He added a fourth beat to the heel click.  
  
"Daeng," he mutters as he steps back to pick up his hot pink ball for the ninth frame second roll. "I neuw I shuldn't haev chaenged dat."  
  
Following his earlier ritual to exacting specifications, he manages eight pins down on the next roll.  
  
"Dat'z bedder," he says to the shoes as he steps off the platform. He then turns to Yes Dear and asks, "Ar we dun yaet? I wuld like tu goe sea dat taebul en dere wid all da leedle culurd baellz oen it . . . ."  
  
Remembering my thoughts about demonstrations and displays earlier, I'm quick to interrupt. "I think we should all go to Baskin-Robbins and celebrate Legolas' first time bowling with an ice cream."  
  
"Whooooe Hoooooe! Coepierite Celeborn!" shouts the Prance. His total score for his second game ever in almost three thousand years is a grand total of ninety. Prance Legolas and the Magical Mystical Absolutely Disgustingly Horrible Houndstooth Check Bowling Shoes have enchanted a nine out of every single frame.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Lub Ledders frum Legolas  
  
Chan: Dere u ar! I meesd u tu! I dunnoe whut it iz abot doze leedle peenz - I kin git all buet won ebery tiem! *huegglz u bak*  
  
SarWolfe Snape: al sez thaenkz fur da huegz. I deed hav a guud tiem boewleeng. I lub doze shoez, doen't u?? *bloewz keesiz*  
  
JastaElf: *droepz tu won nee oen da floar, haed bowed, beafoar leepeeng tu my feat an hueggin u maedlee* Suilad, Ada! Hannon le fur da LBS! Dey wear vary guud. Iz Jasta teecheeng u hoew tu kuuk? Duz she leat u likk da beederz? al leatz me due it, an datz da baest paert. *slydz tu da floar en a pueddil of Elf spooege* *moemintz paess . . . .* Ai, Ada, 'tis trew . . .it iz aelmoest tiem fur me tu reaturn, eben tho I noe dat meenz I muest reapoart tu Arwen abot Araporn an heez hueman waeyz. Dwaerf pursun? *luukz at da bueg dere oen da seeling* I dunnoe whut Saeros ez taelkin abot . . . . Az fur a reaward fur al an da faemilee, I weel hav tu theenk oen dat. I theenk da oenlee thaeng dat wuld maek al haeppie wuld bea da saem thaeng she goet fur Chreestmus laest yeer, an I dunnoe hoew tu giv her dat. *seandz beeg huegz an keesiz tu u an Jasta*  
  
daw the minstrel: Yaes Deer iz a vary spaeshul huezbaend. He puetz uep wid a loet of thaengz dat moest huemanz wuldn't. I dunnoe whoe culd dowbt my Elflinaess, due u? *geeglz*  
  
The Two Princesses: Hae, due dey hav boewleeng doewn uendur whur u liv? Whitch waey duez da baell roell whin u throew it? Iz it baekwurdz like da wader en da toewlit? Woew. I thank ur rite - I culd hav dun bedder if I head my vary oewn baell an shoez. *xoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxo!!!!*  
  
Laura: Luuk hoew muech bedder I deed whin eberythaeng mached! U goet tu luuk ur baest tu bea ur baest. *seandz loetz of huegz an keesiz rite bak tu u!!!!*  
  
Dragon-of-the-north:*huegz u* Whur deed u goe? Deed u hav a guud tiem? Dat Yaes Deer theenkz he'z fuennie, duzn't he, naemin me 'Orkbayt'. *groewlz at YD*  
  
Writer from Rivendell: Hear iz a kemical foermula fur u: if u puet 3 droepz of read fuud culuring en a teespuun of wader an den riense it ober ur tung an den druul doewn ur cheen an oentu ur shiert, u kin giv al a fizeologikal reeakshun dat ez a loet of fuen tu wach! Jest kuvur ur eerz furst. *chueklz like a mayniak*  
  
That is SOOOO not funny, Legolas.  
  
I thot it wuz. . . .  
  
Michelle6: I culdn't git da leenk tu wurk. Whoe duz Matt luuk like? Iz it Araporn?? *smuuch*  
  
Nilmandra: Doze leedle gurlz hav krownz an boewaz? Oeh, boey!!! Abot dat boewleeng thaeng, luuk hoew much bedder I deed whin my baell an my shoez mached! I theenk my balaence wuz jest oeff. Due u eber hav doze kiend of dayz? *gievz u a loeng sweat keez oen da leepz*  
  
Katiani Petitedra: U hav Eureka?? Iz dat guud? Shuld I caell an aembuelanse? *wurriez abot u*  
  
Phoenix Flight: I deed bedder dis tiem. Roellin a baell iz noet az ezy az it luukz. *skweeziz u*  
  
Sperry Dee: Woew! Threa strikz! Woew! Iz ur leag fealeeng bedder? Leat me sea dat . . . . *puelz ur laeg entu my laep an gievz u a geantul fuut maessage *Hoewz dat?  
  
LandosStar: Deed u sea my shoez?? Dat nise maen fownd dem jest fur me. Thaenkz fur da cuukeez! *huegz u*  
  
Space-Case 7029: I deed fianully git 50 peenz. Yaes Deer steel caelz me 'Orkbayt' tho sumtiemz. al sez tu tael u thaenk u vary muech fur da beast weeshz. *snuegglz u*  
  
Lady Peredhel: Wael, whut due u thaenk? Hulloe? Hulloe??? I gess u an Haldir ar noet dun wid dat lawndree yaet . . . .  
  
Deb: Oeh yaeh, baybee! (c Legolas) Dey hav gudder gardz. An kuet leedle dukz tuu. Yaes Deer steel calz me 'Orkbayt' sumtiemz. (al duzn't hav a. . . uhmm. . . a skar, buet she saeyz fur sum peepul dat wuz TMI, whuteber dat meenz) *Smuuchez u bak*  
  
Fadesintothewest: Haveeng shoez an a baell dat goe tugethur haelpz a hoel loet, az u kin sea. U hav tu luuk guud tuu, u noe! *bloewz u a kees*  
  
Lady Silence: Oeh yaeh, baybee! (c Legolas) Boewleeng iz FUEN! An Haelowean iz eben BEDDER! *hoeldz uep da growshuree baeg fuell of kaendee I goet* Hear, hav sum!  
  
Vladimir's Angel: I em glaed tu hear ur bedder! I haed tu wate awile tu git doez spaeshul majik shoez. Mebbe if u aeskd reel nise dey mite hav a pare hieddin awae sumwhare u culd uze? I deedn't git a hoet dawg, buet da peekulz ar deelishus *snuegglz*  
  
Newmoon: U deafinitlee nead da neaown shoez. Dey maek boewleeng a loet moer toalerabul. I culdn't due a thaeng wid doez othur shoez. *huegz an keesiz fu u*  
  
Holly :o) : Bean wid fraendz dat u lub maekz a loet of deefurense, duzn't it? I doen't thaenk it matturz whut ur skor iz if u hav a guud time wid ur fraendz. Due u like dese shoez bedder? *weenkz at u*  
  
The Karenator: Dat'z rite, an noew dat my shoez mach, luuk hoew muech bedder I em duen! Due u like my Taellie Tuebbie koestum? Thaenk u fur da ideea! An speekeeng of Galadriel, I neber deed like dat miend reedeen thaeng she duz. I meen, iz nuthin prievit??? Du u thaenk if I ware da eer pluegz mebbe she culdn't git ensied my haed? *taekz eer pluegz n givez u a beeg kees*  
  
Magical Rachel: Oeh noe, mellon-nin. I theenk boewleeng iz FUEN! Wonse I goet eberythaeng coo-oerdinadid, I deed muech bedder! I am glaed u ar dueng bedder an dat Unie iz goeng waell. *seandz u sum elbin lub*  
  
elbee: I baeg ur paerdun?!! I doen't smaell peatulint! Dat'zx huennysuekl ur smaelleeng. *al whispers in the pointed ear that petulant means the Prance . . .uh, FELT annoyed, yes . . . .* Oeh, okae. . . . *skweazes u*  
  
Grammar Laedee: Oeld aege muest meen dat da reevew bowrd iz aelloweeng u tu mueltipul poest tu. Noet eberybuddie gitz tu due dat. Elves git oeld, we jest doen't reenkul-eggsept Elrond, buet dat peredhel iz haf hueman whitch iz moestlee oen heez foarhaed. *gievz u a beeg hueg*  
  
anna: Hae dere! Deed u like my Haellowean koestum? I hoep u ar steel haevin a guud weak! *bloez u a kees*  
  
Pineapple Princess: Woew! Dat'z a loet of daensing praktise! Mebbe u shuld puet dat akshun feegur uendur da coevurz wid doze nivez an sea whut haeppinz tu dat baed spydur. *seandz u a smuuch*  
  
rakoiel: Thaenkz fur da shoez, buet u sea I aelfedy hav sum! Al sed tug iv da cleetz bak tu; she duzn't wtaent tu taek a chaense I weel waelk oen her kitchen floar wid dem. *cueddlz*  
  
PuterPatty: *groawlz* U hav goetten tu sea me due a loet of thaengz fur da furst tiem, hueh amelamin?? Due I baend ober like dis? *baendz ober like I em roellin da baell an wreeglz my heepz uentil my jeenz fiet bedder* Iz dat guud? Hoew abot dis move? Due u like dat? *skoopz u uep an snoegz da braeth odda u*  
  
Lil' Pip: Dat'z okae, I em noet speekin tu u eethur. I dunnoe whie u deedn't seand me a ledder fur chaeptur 13. I due noe whie I deedn't seand u won. I deedn't seand u won beacuz u deedn't seand me won. If u seand me won, I kin seand u won. Den u kin seand me anuthur won, an I weel seand u anuthur won tu. I em soerrie if u deedn't git dat, buet den I kin't eggsplain it tu u beacuz I em noet speekin tu u, reamimbur? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
That's enough of that. You did a nice job, Prance.  
  
I noe. Thaenkz, al. *sieghz deejektidlee*  
  
What's the matter?  
  
I dunnoe abot dat boewleeng. Luuk at whut haeppind tu my feengurnalez. Dere all toern uep.  
  
*rolls eyes at the ceiling, sighs, and then hands the Prance the nailclippers* 


	16. The Things That Dreams Are Made Of

A/N: Legolas is an avid NASCAR racing fan, having learned the addiction from none other than Yes Dear, the Plastic Drink Cup Armchair Racing Champion for the past 20 years. His favorite driver is Dale Jarrett, mostly I think because he likes the concept of racing the big brown UPS truck, but he'll root for pretty much anybody, especially the ones who seem to be having the worst day. He's a real cheerleader, that Prance Helpful. The 'Tony' mentioned herein would be Tony Stewart, driver of the orange and white #20 Chevrolet Home Depot car.  
  
Many thanks again to PuterPatty for the help with resizing "The Weenie Elf" and for catching all my missing commas, as well as thanks to leail for catching the one thing "we who were distracted by hot dogs" missed. *grins*  
  
Chapter 16 The Things That Dreams Are Made Of  
  
Why is it that the woman of the house is always the one responsible for changing the paper on the roll? Doesn't matter if it's the bathroom toilet tissue or the kitchen paper towel, it seems everybody but me is able to stretch j-u-s-t e-n-o-u-g-h to make it to the next to the last square. I swear, sometimes they tear off and use only half a single sheet just to keep from having to be the one who unsprings the little bar and exchanges empty for full.  
  
"Legolas," I say, turning towards where he's standing at the sink making bubbles by carefully squirting air through the little opening in the top of the container of Dawn dishwashing liquid, "could you get me another roll of paper towels?"  
  
"Shur," he says. He goes to the bottom corner cabinet, squats down, and reaches a long arm back into the far recesses of the cabinet. Feels around for a minute or two. Stops to sneeze a tiny elven, "A-schik," noise, one I've never heard anyone do before I heard his. Pauses to rub his nose with his right hand, then finally produces a roll of paper towels from the cabinet with his left.  
  
"Dere u goe," he says, passing the paper towels up to me.  
  
As I slide the roll onto the wooden bar and pop it back into the holder that connects the dispenser to the bottom of the upper cabinets near the stove, Legolas sneezes again.  
  
"A-SCHIK!!"  
  
"Bless you!" I reply, not really thinking about it, but more acting out of habit in the southern fashionable custom of things. I'm more interested in checking out the print on this roll of paper towels. I usually buy plain white ones so I don't have the problem of whether the paper unrolls from over the top or comes out from underneath.  
  
This roll has a funny watercolor-ish sort of design, heavier on one side, and prettily marked in varied shades of blue-green. As I go to hang it on the bar, it dawns on my distracted mind what exactly is wrong with this picture.  
  
The roll of paper towel is FUZZY.  
  
Taking a closer look reveals that the paper towel is covered in mold. I quickly drop it into the big kitchen trashcan and go to squat down in front of the corner cabinet. Opening the door, I'm hit with the smell of musty mildew, and the next elven "A-schik!" echoing forth from the blond-headed one now peering in beside me suddenly makes sense.  
  
"Get the flashlight," I tell him. He quickly bounces to his feet, snags the big light torch from its place on top of the refrigerator, and drops back to crouch beside me.  
  
"Whut iz dat?" he inquires.  
  
"Mold. We've got a problem."  
  
Turns out that's an understatement. Closer inspection reveals that the entire corner cabinet is wet and soppy. The particle board shelves are flaking apart in the very back, the part you have to lay on your belly and reach all the way to your shoulder blades with your head inside the door to see. The reason I know that is because I called Yes Dear in to investigate, and he told me.  
  
"Looks like the dishwasher sprung a leak," says the Man of the House, trying to get up off the floor. His way is being impeded by a six-foot-tall elf standing over him, trying to see without getting down on the floor since there's no room for anything larger than his two feet, which are currently planted one on each side of Yes Dear's hips. He shoos Legolas aside and climbs to his feet, shaking his head as the Prance plucks the flashlight from his hand and drops back to squat in front of the open cabinet door.  
  
"Dishwasher?" I ask.  
  
"Yes. That thing there," Yes Dear says, pointing to the space beside the moldy corner cabinet, "is a dishwasher. The same thing YOU call a baking pan storage box."  
  
He's right. We've lived here in this house, which came complete with a dishwasher, for eight years, and I have never used the thing with water in it. Dishwashing is what I have Yes Dear for.  
  
By the time Yes Dear's finished his inspection, which I'm sure took twice as long as it normally would have because every move he made was mirrored exactly by his elven shadow, he's discovered the leak has gone under the floor, across behind the refrigerator, all the way to the back door that leads out to the carport, and halfway across toward the stove. Half my kitchen is covered in the green slime, which has carefully concealed itself behind dark recesses and under linoleum.  
  
Even worse, a week later we find out insurance doesn't cover it.  
  
"We're going to have to replace the floor, the cabinets, the baseboards, and the linoleum," says Yes Dear, running his fingers through his thick, dark, luxurious hair in a gesture of financial frustration. (A/N: this sentence beta'd by Yes Dear. Thank you, darling, for you input.)  
  
Say goodbye to Disneyland, Legolas.  
  
We spend the following week having contractors come to look at the problem and give us estimates. Several of them become suddenly very busy after visiting, and I suspect the part of the task they find most daunting is the elven supervisor who dogs every step they make. It doesn't take long to figure out that the free slave labor living in this mess will be all the labor we can afford.  
  
"We can do this, really," Yes Dear says as we sit at the table munching elf cookies. "There's really not that much to it, and we can save a ton on labor and delivery charges."  
  
"We don't know the first thing about remodeling!" I exclaim.  
  
"They have classes we can take, and surely you can bring home some repair manuals from the library," he continues. "The cabinets are all custom designed by computer now, so everything's already pretty much done for you."  
  
By now I'm looking at him like he's grown a third head. I'm wondering if it counts as a labor and delivery savings if the funds are actually just transferred from the L & D column to the ER (as in Emergency Room) department column. After all, this hasn't exactly been our year in the good health category. I've also got this nagging vision inside my head of my sparkly-shiny brand-new latest-model kitchen suddenly collapsing through the shiny new floor.  
  
"Would you feel better if I had a contractor do just the floor?" he asks. "I could see if Joe could do it."  
  
Oh, those magic words. Joe's done a floor for us before, and he and his assistant Lou are always so careful and so neat and so terribly polite, not to mention the way they sing those soulful spirituals softly between themselves and smile constantly as they work. Yep, mentioning Joe is magic to my ears.  
  
"Okay, but only if Joe does the floor," I agree.  
  
"I hoep he noez whut he'z duen bedder dan doze uthur peepul deed," announces Prance Helpful from his spot in front of the television where he's currently watching 'Survivor'.  
  
When Joe pulls up in his black truck five days later, Legolas is out the door to greet him in a flash. In a matter of moments the two of them are conversing about mold and mildew and water leaks and floor repair. Joe doesn't bat an eyelash at the myriad of questions being flung his way almost faster than Legolas can ask them. In fact, Joe's so smart he's got the perfect way of answering.  
  
Ever heard of the best way to learn something is by doing it?  
  
Thirty seconds after the two of them cross the threshold onto my now bouncy- squishy kitchen floor, Joe has whipped out his retractable twenty-foot tape measure and started his new "apprentice" on the learning adventure of a lifetime.  
  
"Put that against the wall there, Legolas," he asks politely, pointing exactly where he wants it. When the Prance hesitates slightly, Joe gently takes his hand and places it in exactly the right spot, reminding him to hold it steady and not to let it get pulled loose.  
  
Soon Joe has stretched the tape across the kitchen and is writing down the results while the Prance beams excitedly from his spot on the one-inch side of the measuring tape. They take probably two dozen measurements, which I'm sure is at least a dozen more than Joe needs, but Legolas doesn't mind. In fact, he's eagerly anticipating all the other possible measurements they can take.  
  
"Hoew abot hear?" he asks.  
  
"I've got one just two inches to the left of that one, buddy, "Joe answers.  
  
"Oeh, okae. Hoew abot hear?"  
  
"Sorry, bud. Got that one already too."  
  
Legolas' beam becomes a faded glow. The corners of his happy smile drop. The stately shoulders slump.  
  
"I DO need someone to roll up my tape measure for me," Joe says, nudging him.  
  
The elven light pops back on. "Oeh, pik me! " he whispers excitedly, raising his hand just a bit in the air.  
  
"Let's see, hmmm . . . ," says Joe teasingly. "Uhmmm . . . who will I pick . . . . How about you, Legolas?"  
  
"Oeh, boey! Woew!" As he reaches for the tape measure, he cocks his head to the left and listens for the slightest of moments to some voice inside his head. He suddenly straightens his posture, standing a good three inches taller and squaring his shoulders off. The twinkle remains in his eye, but the excited little elfling has suddenly been replaced by the aristocratic young prince.  
  
"I wuld bea hoenurd tu bea of searvise," he says with a slight bow as he gracefully plucks the tape measure from Joe's hand.  
  
Estimates written and schedules arranged, Joe agrees to return in two weeks to put in the new floor.  
  
Meanwhile, Yes Dear and I begin the great adventure of deciding what to do about the ruined cabinets. It turns out to be significantly cheaper to put in new ones than to have replacement cabinets made to match the old ones. That is, if we do the labor ourselves. The oddest thing is that I would kill to get to run the power saw down at the theater where both of us volunteer to build sets all the time, but there's just something totally wrong about cutting up my own kitchen. Just call me weird, okay?  
  
Maybe it's because now I'm the one paying for it if I mess up.  
  
On Friday, Lil' Pip has been invited to spend the night with her best friend Julie, so Yes Dear and I plan an excursion to the big city to check out the goods. Legolas, not about to miss a single "Modren-erth" experience, tags along.  
  
"Whur we goen?" he asks from his spot in the backseat as we pull onto the Interstate.  
  
"Home Depot," Yes Dear answers.  
  
"Okae," comes the response, as the Prance is quickly distracted by the sound of good old Rock-n-Roll coming from the radio. He sings along contentedly, having learned just about all the words to the old hits from the seventies and the eighties this station plays.  
  
There's nothing quite like watching your mate rock along beside royalty to AC/DC's 'Hell's Bells'.  
  
Before long we're crawling along in the heavy traffic of the big city and then pulling into the parking lot of Home Depot and climbing out of the car.  
  
"I hoep Tony'z hear," Legolas says excitedly, looking around.  
  
"Not today, Prance," answers Yes Dear. "He's at qualifying for this weekend's race."  
  
"Oeh. . . ," says the Prance. "Dat'z rite. I furgot."  
  
I lost him the first time before we ever breached the doorway. Of course, I lost Yes Dear at the same time, so it wasn't so bad.  
  
"Hae!" I overhear the elven tenor announcing gleefully, "If we haed won like dis, I culd due EBERYBUDDIE'Z laewn!"  
  
Looking back behind me, I find him sitting pretty on the biggest John Deere riding tractor-sized lawnmower I think I've ever seen. God-knows-how-many- thousand horsepower with an attached bagger and a canopy, and hitched behind it is a Shetland pony sized trailer. He looks like any other boy from down on the farm. Matter of fact, he looks remarkably like a blond version of my own dark-haired Yes Dear, sitting pretty on the John Deere right beside him that's only a half-a-herd of horses more powerful.  
  
"Yeah, that baby would pretty much seal up the deal on the neighborhood competition," says Yes Dear.  
  
I figure the both of them must be high on octane gas or something.  
  
"GET IN HERE!" I hiss.  
  
Dejectedly, they peel themselves off the mowers and follow me to the door. We're not three steps inside when I hear it.  
  
"WOEW. . . ," mutters an awe struck voice just behind me and to the left. "VALINOR. . . ."  
  
In front of his Depot-virgin eyes stretches the handyman's dream. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling, gleaming toilets with golden handles stand suspended on the displays to the right, every kind of light bulb imaginable is carefully boxed for selection just before us, and stretching off to the left is a huge display of every power tool ever known to mankind.  
  
"Woew," he whispers again.  
  
Okay, make that every power tool never before seen by elven eyes.  
  
"They even have the kitchen sink," prods Yes Dear, taking him by the elbow. "Come on."  
  
Before long we find the kitchen remodeling section and are busy opening and closing all the cabinet doors and sliding the drawers in and out. White was a unanimous decision before we even set foot in the place, so our choices begin in a significantly reduced fashion. We quickly pick out an arched pattern and move on to all the options for singles and doubles and lazy- Susan pantries and octagonal corner cabinets.  
  
"Hello? May I help you?" asks the saleswoman in the bright orange apron as she steps into the model kitchen behind us.  
  
"We need a new kitchen," I answer, at the same time my significant other says, "We're just looking."  
  
Uh-oh. Not a good sign.  
  
The associate quickly pounces on me, clearly the weaker of the two sexes present. She extends her hand for a friendly handshake with me. "My name's Connie. What's your budget, honey?"  
  
"Uhhh . . . ?" I look at Yes Dear. Far as I know, we've got the $500 the insurance lady sent that was just to fix the floor. Apparently nothing else was covered.  
  
"We just came to check out our options," he answers.  
  
"Well, how big is the area you have to work in?" she asks.  
  
"Bowt dis beeg," replies the voice of Prance Helpful as he takes this opportunity to appear from around the corner, nodding at the tiny half- kitchen we're standing in. "Mebbe smaellur."  
  
"Oh, so things are a bit tight. . . ," Connie mumbles out loud but supposedly to herself.  
  
"Oeh, noe!" replies the Prance. "Da keetchin at hoem haz a stove an a reefrijerador tuu. It'z beegur dan dis, deafanitelee."  
  
"You have measurements?" she says to me.  
  
"Yes," cuts in Yes Dear, clearly becoming annoyed. He pulls out a green accordion file folder and produces his graph paper rendition of our current kitchen.  
  
She invites us to the "design center" to sit, where she takes one look at Yes Dear's careful measurements and shakes her head.  
  
"Nobody owns a 27 inch stove," she begins. "They just don't make them."  
  
Yes Dear bristles.  
  
"And your refrigerator can't be 33 inches either," she continues, obviously unaware of whom she's now dealing with.  
  
Yes Dear's looking more like a warg by the moment. As he begins to growl a response, something akin to college degrees and mathematical aptitude and being physically present versus using psychic powers to use a measuring tape, here comes the Prance.  
  
"DEED U SEA DAT WON???" he exclaims gleefully. "I waent DAT WON." He points behind me and to the right.  
  
Following his outstretched finger, I ask, "The one with the brown cabinets? We've already decided on white, Prance."  
  
"NOE! NOE! Noet da kaebinitz! Luuk at dat oen da toep of da kaebinitz!"  
  
Sure enough, the black marble countertop skillfully laid over the brown walnut cabinets is inlaid with thousands of tiny sparkling pieces of glitter. The whole kitchen looks spotless, with the reflections of a million tiny points of starlight radiating forth from the glistening ebony surface.  
  
"Dat won'z bean keesid bie Elbereth," he murmurs, awestruck.  
  
"At least a million times," I hear myself say. It's the most beautiful, most spacious, most wonderful, most sparkling, and most of all SPOTLESSLY CLEAN kitchen I've ever laid eyes on. And I GOTTA HAVE IT.  
  
(Note to self: change name to alliwantisthatelberethkissedkitchencountertopforchristmas)  
  
The saleslady skillfully picks this moment to show up once again, this time with a whole pile of little rectangular countertop samples in her hand. "Look at this one over here, "she says, maneuvering us over to a model kitchen a little further down. "This countertop is about the same color, and it's in your price range."  
  
Uh-oh.  
  
"Buet we like DAT won!" protests Prance Helpful, who's not feeling very helpful at all right now. "Dat won'z all spaerklee an kleen an beeuteeful!"  
  
"That's more for show," she tells him as she pulls him aside. She stands very close to him, invading his personal space as she whispers in his pointed ear, "You don't want her getting her hopes up, do you? It's very expensive, quite pricey and all." She puts her arm around his shoulders, consoling him. "Be a good . . . ," she pauses to size him up, checking out our matching long hair with the matching warrior braids, "uhhh . . . brother, and tell her how fantastic you think one of these less expensive ones would look in her new kitchen." She holds out a dozen of the little rectangular chips for him to take.  
  
"She'z noet my seestur. She'z my ruumaet," he says defensively.  
  
Connie glances from Legolas to Yes Dear. "Then who's he?" she softly asks.  
  
With a wave of his long fingered hand, he replies, "Oeh, heem. He'z jest her huezbaend." To her puzzled look he adds, "He libz dere tuu."  
  
"Really?" says Connie, raising both eyebrows.  
  
"Ueh-hueh," says the Prance, nodding.  
  
"Okaaaaay. . . ," she says, slowly and carefully removing her arm from Prance Helpful's shoulders, so as not to disturb any of the cooties currently residing on him, I suppose.  
  
An hour or two later we've garnered a computer printout with a designers rendition of what our new kitchen will look like, four pamphlets on the various cabinet maker's styles, two brochures on sinks, a card from the guy who orders new stoves with prices written all over the back, and about a hundred of the little rectangular pieces of countertop colors. I made Prance Helpful put back the thirty or so drawer pulls he had gathered while we talked estimates with Connie because the drawer pulls were all at least five dollars apiece. No free brochures for drawer pulls existed.  
  
The Prance puts on his princely pout. "I waent dis won dat luukz like a leedle keetie," he whines.  
  
"Legolas, those are $13 each and we need twenty-eight of them."  
  
"I'll bea rite bak," he confides, turning to sprint off down the aisle yet again.  
  
"Where are you going?" I holler after him, plenty loud enough for even his elven ears to hear.  
  
"I em goeng tu git dem!" he yells back, beaming brightly and trotting off down the aisle.  
  
"NO!" I cry. When he turns back around, I explain, "That's almost $400 just for the drawer pulls. We could buy three more cabinets for that much money."  
  
"Whur ar we gunna puet dem??" he asks, incredulous.  
  
With an exasperated sigh, I answer," It's just a fig. . . ."  
  
"I noe. It'z jest a feegur of speaech," he quotes, imitating me perfectly, then going back to his pouting face.  
  
"Come on. It's time to go home. I need you to see which one of these little rectangles matches the carpet and the linoleum the best. You're good at matching things."  
  
"Yaes, elves ar noewn fur dere hie seanse of faeshun," he announces all wide-eyed and serious, plucking the countertop samples from my hand. "I wuld bea da baest maen. . . I meen, da baest elf fur da joeb."  
  
And with that, he proceeds to march himself right down the aisle to the front of "Valinor" and right out the sliding glass doors.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Lub Ledders frum Legolas  
  
daw the minstrel: *blueshiz* I deedn't noew u culd sea my kurrige en dat Teenkie-Weenkie sewt! Hoew embareasseng! Doze majik shoewz shur maed all da deefrinse. Due u hav a pare of ruebee raed shoewz, da kiend wid da spaerkulz oen dem? Oooeh, doze ar purty. . . .*reechiz owt tu foendul ur shoewz*  
  
JastaElf: Suilad, Ada an Suilad, Jasta! *waevz wildlee, bloewz keesiz* U wuld lub deze shoewz, Ada-dey wuld goe wid ur grean roeb, an ur yaellow won, and da awtuem harvist won wuld mach tuu! Yaes, I wuz wandureeng arond Lothlorien, buet dat Dwaerf jest keapt foelloweeng me! Nawtee? Me?? Neber! *sliedz tu da floar en a pueddil of elf guu*  
  
Phoenix Flight: Yaeh, doze shoewz shur wear a guud thaeng. I wuz beegineeng tu theenk I mite bea 'Orkbayt' fureber. *gievz u a beeg skweeze!*  
  
SarWolf Snape" We haed a vary guud tiem! I hoep dis weakeand we weel bea goen agin! *huegz*  
  
Lil' Pip: Deer Leedle Peep, Yaeh, soe dere. Vys n'vanima ar' vys atara lanneina. Bie, Legolas  
  
Writer from Rivendell: Woah. Dat sowndz daengerus. Dat wuld maek it FUEN! Yaes, dat wuz a graey elvin kuerse dat I sed. It coemz en haendee aloet of tiemz. *smuuch*  
  
Lando's Star: My mom is like me. That can be scary. Lil' Pip is just like me most of the time too, which is even SCARIER! *haendz u a spuunful of ise kreem* Dat'z all da ise kreem I hav laeft, buet it'z steel guud, izn't it? Deed u like my shoewz? Mebbe u wuld like boewleeng bedder if ur shoewz an baell mached? *kueddlz u*  
  
Nimlos Greenleaf: *waevz* Glaed ur bak! Skool iz noet eeveil, buet it iz a loet of wurk. Thaenk u fur all da sweatz! *eetz a peenuet budder hoerse an den keesiz u*  
  
Michelle6: I deed hav a guud Haelowean. Aftur I goet a loet of kaendee, I weant tu a paertee an haed hoet dawgz an poetaetoe cheepz an budderskoch kuukiez maed owt of chieneze nuudlz an maershmaellowz. Hear, hav won! *haendz u a kuukie*  
  
Deb: Dey haed sum playn boewleeng shoewz at Rak Ruum laest tiem I wuz dere, buet dey wear gurl shoewz an my feat wuldn't fiet. al sez we aelwaeyz muest laet Yaes Deer whin soe he duzn't wine. Yaes, deel peeklz ar baest, buet I lub da sweat wonz tuu. I deed noet git tu plae puul, sense we weant tu git ise kreem enstaed. Dere'z aelwaeyz naekzt tiem. *beeg huegz u*  
  
Nilmandra: OOOoeh! Whut kulurz deed u uze fur ur oeffise? I baet it'z purty. Yaes Deer deed taek me goelfeeng, an I like bean owtsied tho my baell deed goe en da treaz a feuw tiemz. I jest woer my blew jeenz tho. I hoep ur fealin bedder noew? *snuegglz u uep tite an ruenz my feengurs threw ur hare*  
  
SperryDee: Dat sowndz like a guud koestum! Hoew ar ur Fraench laessunz goeng? Sae hae tu Charlie fur me! *huegz u*  
  
M and the Two Princesses: I meesid u! *waevz an bloewz xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxox's* Eberybuddie neadz sum shoewz like deze. Dere majik, I tael u! I kin seeng "Ober da Raenboew" an "Wear Oeff Tu Sea Da Whizzard" tuu. I like boewleeng cuz u kin jest goe owt dere an hav fuen an noet wurry abot weening. It'z jest fuen tu waer da shoewz fur a leedle wile, u noe?  
  
The Karenator: al weant az da Muthur an kaerried eberybuddiez kaendee an jakitz an flaeshlitez. Yaes, I theenk Baelroeg feengurz iz a guud naem fur hoet dawgz. U like my koestum an my shoewz? Woew! *taekz eerpluegz* I proemis, tho I doen't noew whut ur taelkin abot. Hannon le! *seandz u sum elbin lub*  
  
Space-Case 7029: U neber noew whut al weel git entu nekzt, due u? She iz suech a trublemaekur. I theenk we ar goen boewleeng agin dis weakend. I'm glaed u like my Teenkie-Weenkie koestum! *skweeziz u*  
  
Katani Petitedra: Ureeka iz an eggsklamashun of triyumfant acheevmint. Huem. . . I like dat wurd onomatopeea, whur u maek uep wurdz dat meen sowndz like buezz an smaeck. *smuuch!*  
  
Newmoon: U like da shoewz? I weesh I culd ware dem eberydae, buet da luk mite ruen owt if I deed. Soe u like my Haelowean koestum, hueh? *geeglz an bloewz u a kees*  
  
Lady Peredhel: U bea kaerful wid doze hueman gueyz. Dey'll brake ur hart an moev oen tu keesin sum uthur gurl, taek my wurd fur it! *gievz u a beeg hueg, sense ur noet entu elves enimoer*  
  
Holly :o) : Ur absoeluetlee rite, u muest taek hareculur entu kunsideerashun whin selekteeng boewleeng shoewz. Da majik izn't dere if da shoewz doen't mach. Whut culur shoewz due u ware? *seandz u a kees*  
  
MagicalRachel: Dat'z rite! Nien iz da Faellowsheep nuembur! I thot dat mysef. Beafore I laeft Meedle-erth I gaev Gandalf won of doze blueweeng reensiz, an I deedn't sea enithaeng eggstra en heez beerd. Stuedee haerd! *snuegglz u*  
  
Dunrosiel: Wear noet haeveeng issuez, ar we? *poyntz at flaemthrowr* Da peepul puet an 's' en 'lisp' soe u wuldn't theenk dey wear taelkeen abot 'leepz' which ar toetully deefrint theengz. *gievz u a kees oen da leepz* Sea?  
  
kimmaree: I lub da Fleentstoenz! I'm noet shur my baell wuld rowel vary guud if it wuz a rok. I haed tu due dat wid al'z kaer won tiem tu git it tu goe-dat wuz fuen! *skweeziz u tite!*  
  
Grammar Laedee: Luuk, u deed it! Oenlee won poest dis tiem! I em luukeeng foerwurd tu ur veezit nekzt weak. Sea? I em noet tuchin Leedle Peep *hoevurz indekz feengur an elf hare abuv her skeen* al tawt me dis gaem . . .heahea! *gievz u a beeeeeeeg hueg!*  
  
VladimirsAngel: Dat iz nise elvish swaereeng! U shuld here sum of da stueff I lurned frum doze Peredhil tweenz. I like da karameal an straewburriez tuu, an da nuetz, an sum bandanaz, an hoet fuj, an u jest HAEV tu git a chaerrie oen da toep of ur ise kreem. *reechiz owt an steelz a biet of ur ise kreem frum u*  
  
Chan: Due u like sweat peeklz tu? If u kuet uep da deel wonz en leedle sliesiz an poar owt all of da juese en da jaer, den puet da sliesiz bak en da jaer an feel it wid suegur, en a kuple of daeyz u haev da neetist taesteeng sweat-n-sowr peekulz eber! al'z graendma uzed tu due dat, an noew she duz it fur me! Waenna taeste? *eetz won an den keesiz u*  
  
leail: Hae, kin I boerroe doze paentz? I mite nead dem dis weadeand if we goe boewleeng agin. We kin steel goe off an plae tugethur aeftur we chaeng. *taekz u bie da haend an leedz u beahiend da gaerage doar*  
  
raukoiel: An lub! Doen't furgit da lub! I em glaed u likd Teenkie-Weenkie an my shoewz tu. al wouldn't laet me ware bowth at da saem tiem. She sed dat wuld bea tu skaerrie fur da leedle cheeldrin. *snuegglz u*  
  
anja: Oeh, nin-mel, buet deze shoewz, dey ar soe spaeshul! Luuk hoew muech bedder I plaed wonse my baell an my shoewz machd! Hear *haendz u sum suen glaessiz* Iz dat bedder? *smuuchiz u*  
  
Kat: Hav u sean da Tuu Toewrz yaet? Thaenk u fur da e-kard. Dat wuz nise of u tu seand it. Tael Jess I sed kungradulashunz oen gittin a stryk-dat wuz guud! Tael Jennifer she kin rite tu me tuu. *seandz sum xoxoxoxoxoxxooxoxoxoxoxxo's fur u tu shaer* Ruen faest frum doze boeyz!  
  
Angaloth: Whut'z oedd abot an elf draessd az Teenkie-Weenkie waelkeeng doewn da streat? *holdz uep an 8 trak taep* al sez tu giv u dis. Yaeh, I wuz glaed tu git enuf of a skore en boewleeng tu git a neuw niknaem. I soerta like 'Haendsum' misef, hoew abot u? *seandz u sum lub*  
  
PuterPatty: It's "luxUrious". And what's with all those dots? Are those drool drips? *hands you a roll of non-moldy paper towels* I'd appreciate it if you'd clean that up. *hands another roll to the Prance* And you'd better dry off too. Hey! Gimme that! *snags 8-ball from the long elven fingers* I told you not to take things that aren't yours. . . . Buet, al!! *powtz* She DUZ hoeld da #1 tikit, al. *goewz tu da freedge an gitz owt da sweat-n-sowr peekilz ensted, puetz a slieze en my mowf an suekz da shugar oeff it uenteel it'z all goen* Coem hear, baybee. I goet sumpthaeng bedder dan a deel fur u. . . .  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
What happens next? Which drawer pulls will Legolas determine are most fashionable? What about the hundred little rectangular chips of countertop? And powertools . . . . will there be powertools in the Prance's future?  
  
Stay tuned for the next exciting phase of "The Redemption of al's Kitchen"! 


	17. Games We Play

A/N: Samples of the color chips listed can be seen by accessing the website for Wilsonart Laminate at their homepage. Just type in www.wilsonart. com /laminate /consumer /products /index.asp without the spaces between the dot and the com and just before each of the slash marks.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Legolas; I am merely the keeper of his virginity. Apparently I'm also his provider of free room and board and anything and everything else his little heart desires while he's staying here. No profit or gain is being made by the mention of any brand names, or even the illusion of any mention of brand names. Even people's names have been changed to protect the innocent.  
  
Since Legolas isn't totally innocent, I left his name real.  
  
Big thanks once again to PuterPatty and leail for the beta services. These chapters just wouldn't be the same without their help. Ya'll just don't know the full extent of my southern-ness without these two Yanks keeping my commas from taking over every one of my thoughts *winks at PP and leail*  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter 17 Games We Play  
  
On Wednesday night, I dash home from work only to dash back out the door again, headed to kid's choir with Lil' Pip, followed by our weekly fellowship dinner with my church family. After dinner, the congregation splits up into study groups. Lil' Pip goes to the children's wing to practice for a play the kids are going to put on for us. Legolas has found his niche in the kitchen, wooing the ladies that cook and helping clean up by dumping all the used tea glasses, rolling up all the paper table cloths, and washing up the silverware. As for Yes Dear and I? Hence comes the evening's highlight - the class for married couples.  
  
We're a rowdy bunch, having already been moved once on the very first night of class for disturbing the other bible study group that was taking place in the room next door to us. Apparently the laughter coming from our class was too much for the serious students who were 'seeing the light' while we were watching our first video in the dark. The giggling stemmed from the fact that when the lights went out, several of the husband-wife teams teasingly switched handholding partners, and the movement sort of took on a life of its own as the switching continued from right to left all the way around the room.  
  
When the lights came back up, the group leader discovered exactly why she seemed to have lost control of her class during a video that was meant to be light-heartedly humorous, but truthfully not deserving of the outright gut-busting chortling that was taking place.  
  
"Alright, alright," she exclaimed, "it's not THAT kind of a marriage class!"  
  
Tonight, we find ourselves giggling again. The topic of discussion is how couples fight. We play a game where we have to guess what our other half would say in answer to questions like, "What's his favorite sport?", "Without looking, what color are her eyes?", and "When is your anniversary?" Yes Dear and I are scoring 100%, getting every single answer right.  
  
When we tally up the scores at the end, Legolas pipes up from the back of the room with, "U tuw wear MFEO."  
  
"MFEO?" I ask. "What's MFEO?"  
  
"Maed Fur Eech Oethur" he answers, sitting there rocking with his chair up on its back legs and his arms crossed over his chest. "PuterPatty tawt me dat."  
  
"That's true, Legolas," pipes in my friend Patsy. "Those two never even fight."  
  
"Yeas dey due," Legolas answers.  
  
"No we don't," I reply.  
  
"Yaes u due," Legolas retorts.  
  
"No we don't!"  
  
"Yes we do," says Yes Dear from my other side.  
  
"WE DO NOT!" I raise my voice. Pausing for a second, I realize I am NOT winning this conversation, so I change tactics with, "So, little elfboy, what in the heck are you doing in this class anyway? Planning something?"  
  
"I herd u geegileeng. I caem tu sea whut u wear laffin abot."  
  
Once class is over, I head to chancel choir practice. Legolas begs off and asks if he can go on home with Yes Dear, wanting to look at his countertop samples again. He spent the afternoon lining them up on top of the old countertop, comparing how they looked in the light on the left side of the kitchen by the refrigerator to how they looked in the light on the right coming from the hood over the stove.  
  
I didn't bother to worry him with the fact that the color of the cabinets was going to change from eggshell to white, and that we would be getting a new stove with one of those ceramic flat tops that doesn't have the coils that always seem to need cleaning, as well as a new range hood and light. We'd also be putting in spotlighting over the sink instead of the fluorescent that resides there now, and even the sink would be different. Sometimes even just a little information is too much, you know?  
  
Later, after spending an hour trying to keep the tenor section from drowning in notes that are slightly off (where is that elf when I need him?), I arrive home to find a hole where the moldy corner cabinet used to be. The butcher block countertop has been sawed straight through, with just enough room for the dish drainer remaining by the sink, its wire rack sort of hanging there suspended by a wing and a prayer. The plywood floor that's exposed now is covered with black slime embedded in the grain of the wood itself, and the whole house smells like a mixture of mildew and something industrial like Mr. Clean. There's even a mark in the drywall by the dish drainer where the saw blade must have slipped and gone right through the painted surface.  
  
"What's going on here?" I demand.  
  
The elven princeling comes bouncing around the corner of the doorway, sliding to a halt in his Joe Boxer white sport socks on the bouncy-squishy linoleum directly in front of me.  
  
"Yaes Deer uzed da POEWER SAEW!" he announces, his eyes wide.  
  
"I see that."  
  
"It'z DIS BEEG!" he continues, holding his hands out shoulder-wide for me to see.  
  
"I know. What happened to my kitchen?"  
  
"It'z all saewd uep!" he exclaims, clapping his hands gleefully.  
  
About this time, Yes Dear himself steps around the doorway.  
  
"Somebody tell me what happened in here while I was gone?" I insist.  
  
"I took out the moldy cabinet like I told you I was going to," he answers.  
  
"You never said anything about cutting up the kitchen," I retort.  
  
"How else did you think I was going to get it out?" he growls.  
  
Hmmmm. I don't think I ever really thought about it. I guess I figured he would just slide the moldy wood part out from under the countertop and it would just stand up there all by itself.  
  
"Well, I certainly didn't think you were going to saw a hole in the wall!" I yell.  
  
"I didn't saw a hole in the wall," he replies.  
  
"Well, there certainly IS a hole in the . . . ." I pause as the full meaning of what he just said sinks in. We must be truly MFEO, because at the exact same instant our eyes turn to the quivering mass of anticipation standing to my left.  
  
"I deed it!" beams Prance Helpful. "I goet tu saew wid da poewer saew, an I cuet a hoel en da waell!"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Two hours later, it's time for bed and we're still not speaking to each other.  
  
I decide enough's enough, and that it's time to breach the Deeping Wall.  
  
"What were you thinking, letting him use power tools?" I whisper, hoping the elven ears can't hear me through two bedroom walls and half the length of the hallway. "What if he'd slipped and cut himself? What if he'd gotten hurt? It's not like you can run him down to the county hospital to be patched up, you know."  
  
"I know. He's not covered under our insurance."  
  
"That's NOT what I mean, and you know it. He's not human - who knows what the differences in treatment for our races would be? What if he turns out to be allergic to something they give him and has a reaction and it kills him? What will we do then?"  
  
"It was just a simple job. I showed him how to do it, and I was there the whole time. He's a quick learner, and he's quite capable of pushing a button to turn a circular saw on and off all by himself. You let him run the microwave."  
  
"It's NOT the same," I grumble.  
  
"AND the vacuum cleaner. He could crush his toes off with the beater bar if he ran over his foot with that. Or haven't you stopped to consider that possibility yet? And what about the washing machine?"  
  
I'm done with this conversation too.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The next week turns out to be a tense one. I can't walk past the kitchen without seeing the gaping hole where the cabinet is missing, and Yes Dear can't walk past me without thinking I've lost my marbles. After all, he was only performing his duty as protector of the household when he removed the dangerous, allergy-producing, sickness-invoking mold from our kitchen. Now his wife's on a mission to make his life miserable just because he supervised the removal of said offending piece of property. It wasn't worth a dime all damaged like that anyway.  
  
On Monday, the Prance bounces happily back down the aisle of "Valinor" to the kitchen and bath center, his myriad collection of little countertop chips stored in the plastic Ziploc sandwich baggie clutched firmly in one hand. He parks himself in one of the tall bar chairs in front of the desk where Connie the designer keeps her computer. She's busily typing away and mutters without looking up, "I'll be with you in just a moment, ma'am."  
  
"Okae," answers the Prance, settling himself in and beginning to line all of his chips up on the table in front of him as he ignores her gender confusion. Once he gets them all lined up, he begins the elaborate process of re-arranging them by sliding the chips around on the top of the table, arranging them by color groups.  
  
Connie looks over at him, her attention drawn by the little scraping- sliding noises he's making. Legolas senses her checking him out, though not for the reason you're probably thinking, which may or may not be the reason he's probably thinking. In fact, she's becoming quite annoyed at the disturbance.  
  
"Hae!" greets Prance Helpful. "I baet u wear wundureeng whut tuuk me soe loeng tu coem bak!"  
  
"Not really," she replies, going back to her typing.  
  
Legolas manages to quickly cover up the look of disappointment that crosses his handsome face. He goes back to sliding the chips again, this time arranging them by descending order of the catalog number for each color which is located on a sticker on the back of each chip. Of course, this means the sliding noise is now accompanied by a tiny snick-slap noise as he flips them face down to see the number and another snick-slap as he flips them back color up.  
  
Connie keeps her composure another thirty seconds (about twenty snick- slaps) before closing the computer file she's working on and turning to him.  
  
"May I help you?"  
  
"Oeh, dat'z okae. U goe ahed an feenish whut u're doen," says Prance Helpful with a smile. "I kin wate. I em immoral. . . I hav all da tiem en da world."  
  
Connie just stares at him.  
  
"He means thank you for your time," I cut in. "We're ready to finalize our order."  
  
"Did you bring your specifications?" she asks me.  
  
"Yaes," inserts the Prance, always cooperative. "He'z rite ober dere." He points with one long index finger at Yes Dear, who is currently inspecting the sample kitchen cabinet display inside and out to make sure he knows how it all hooks together.  
  
Connie follows his finger, then looks at me to see if I'm still there. I half expect her to ask me if I'll pinch her to wake her up from this nightmare, but instead she clarifies, "I meant your measurements and color order numbers, honey."  
  
"We goet doze tu," Prance Helpful nods.  
  
With a sigh, Connie tries another approach.  
  
"Which one of the pretty colors did you pick for a countertop, sweetheart?" she asks Legolas, leaning over and looking directly into his blue eyes and speaking a click or two louder on her volume as if maybe he's a bit hard of hearing. It's that coochie-coo voice people use when addressing babies. I half expect her to chuck him under the chin.  
  
He leans forward and meets her volume, raising it by just a notch. "Won of dese," he says, indicating the spread of color chips displayed on the table before him, his eyes twinkling with elven mischief. He catches the tip of his pink tongue between his front teeth.  
  
Uh-oh.  
  
"Well, maybe you could show me which one you think is the prettiest?" she asks in an even sweeter voice laced with just a hint of venom.  
  
I tap him on the shoulder. "Do it now, please," I request.  
  
The princely elven baby-pout appears. "Buet, al! We'ar plaeyn a gaem!" he whines.  
  
"I see that. It's time to show your winning card."  
  
"Aelredy?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
He slumps back in the chair, the pout now at full-throttle. He reaches forward with one hand and swiftly pushes Wilsonart chip # 1741 across to her.  
  
"Legolas! That's not the one we picked!"  
  
"She deedn't aesk me wich won we pikd. She aeskd me wich won I thot wuz da purdiest. Dat'z it."  
  
Verdi Pompeii. Deep marble-ized green, slick and shiny smooth.  
  
"You can't have that one," Connie answers deadpan.  
  
At first I want to smack her. I mean, I've just cramped the Prance in the midst of his best game and made him hand over the goods before his time, and now she wants to egg him on. Then it dawns on me.  
  
She's helping ME.  
  
I tap the Prance on the shoulder again. "Show her your second choice then." No sense asking him to show the one we picked. Can't risk a Galadriel special this afternoon - the smell's too strong to ride all the way home with in a closed-up car.  
  
He reaches out and pushes chip # 1753 to her. Canyon Blu. Nice choice, actually. That would be the one I would have picked as "purdiest".  
  
"You can't have that one either," she continues.  
  
Wait a minute. I LIKE Canyon Blu #1753.  
  
"Why not?" I ask.  
  
"It's marbleized. You can't use that for a kitchen. It shows every little nick and cut. One time with the knife without a cutting board, and your whole effect is just totally ruined."  
  
I pick up the chip and hold it sideways to the light. She's right. The surface is slick-shiny, and it's already got scratches on it just from being snick-slapped a hundred times a day for a week.  
  
Connie reaches out and starts to selectively gather up the slick-shiny countertop rectangle samples from the array Legolas has displayed before her. A flash of pale lightning bolts across the table, a manicured hand arrests her progress.  
  
A sweet elven smile accompanies the words that follow, but a warning flares in the watchful eyes.  
  
"Dose ar mien."  
  
She meets his gaze, then gently sets the chips down in a stack on the table. "Fine. You might as well go ahead and take out the shiny finished ones then." She pulls her hand away from his grasp and turns back to her computer.  
  
It's about this time that Yes Dear appears. He leans over and picks up chip # 7002-60. Natural Butcherblock. He hands it to Connie.  
  
"I refuse to sell you a Butcher Block," she says, turning up her nose and dismissing him with a wave of her hand. "It's entirely too seventies."  
  
Yes Dear stares at me. We both happen to like the butcherblock.  
  
Legolas is beginning to feel a bit threatened by all this handling of his precioussss chips. He gathers them carefully by colors into little stacks before scooping them up in one palm and sticking them into the plastic Ziploc bag, placing them on his lap for protection. He then produces a single chip and makes one last offer.  
  
"We'al taek dis won den."  
  
Mesa Midnight. Color chip # 4518-7.  
  
Excellent.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Lub Ledders frum Legolas  
  
daw the minstrel: Deed u sea me ried oen da sheeld doewn da staepz? U reemimbur whin I deed dat wid my's graendfaethur'z sheeld en Mirkwood? I goet en soooe muech truble! It'z gunna taek dem abot az loeng tu feex Helm's Deep az it'z gunna taek al tu feex her keetchin. *gievz u a skweez*  
  
Nilmandra: Ur oeffise sowndz purty. Duz it reely hav a pikshur of me oen da waell? Woew. . . .Yaes, Gimli deed reely kael me a powntee eerd elvis preensleeng. He bedder wach it, nekst tiem I mite noet bea suech a guud shoet. *cueddlz u, hoepeeng u feal bedder*  
  
SarWolf Snape: *huegz u bak* Valinor iz noet baed at all! I lub tu goe dere! At leest u huemanz kin goe agin an agin. Elves doen't git tu due dat in Meedle-erth.  
  
JastaElf: **THUED!!** Okay, Jasta, while I'm waiting for him to come around, let me just say if you're thinking about re-doing your kitchen. . . DON'T! *sound of struggling noises comes from the floor* Here, darling, let me give you a hand there. . . *graebz al'z haend an puellz sef entu chaer* Hae, Jasta! Hae, Ada! Soerrie abot remiendeeng u abot da baed thaeng, Ada. I DEED lern aloet dueing dat. U shuld coem doewn an sea deze laewnmoerz, dey're juest da graendist thaeng! If al shoertinz her naem tu "A" kin I bea jest "L"? Oer hoew abot "Him Edhel-ernil-O"? *geeglz an bloewz u boeth a kees*  
  
Michelle 6: Wethur duz noet affekt elves. We doen't ketch coeldz. Tho dat moeld maed me sneaze fur sum reesun, I dunnoe. I lub choklit cheep cuukiez tu! *seandz u a kees*  
  
ariarwen: Eberybuddie sez "Hae, ariarwen!" We deed git a cownturtoep, buet it izn't vary spaerklee. Whin da man puetz it in, I'll spreenkul sum gleetur oen it an spraey it wid dis vaernish wile al izn't luukin.I hoep u hav a guud triep tu Torontoe! *Skweeziz u*  
  
Holly :o) : I'll beat ur ruum iz az purty az u ar. Dat tiel soewndz faebulus. Deed u puet dat oen da waell? U sed u goet neuw kaerpit, soe I thot mebbe da tiel weant oen da waell fur a chaenge. Rite noew I jest hoep da keetchin iz dun bie da tiem I hav tu goe bak tu Meedle-erth. I waent tu sea it tuu! *Huegz u*  
  
Newmoon: Oeh, buet a Baed, Baf, an Beayoend! Oeh, boey! *skweeee!* Dat wuld bea a dreem coem tru if we goet wun of doze arond hear. I lub tu tuch all da toewlz dey hav foeldid jest rite, an tu plae wid all da kuukeeng thaengs like da spaetchulaz an da coallendurz. Da baest paert iz tu saet all da keetchin tiemurz a feuw seacondz apaert an wate fur dem tu all goe oeff *geeglz*  
  
PuterPatty: *snoegz u beafor goen arond an chaengiz da paepur roellz bak tu arond da bak* U puet dat fethur bak. I doen't noe abot u an fethurz. Dat souwndz daengerus. Yaes, haeveeng sumthaeng beeg an poewrful beatwean ur laegz iz an empoertint paert of beaing a mail. Buet den u wuldn't uendurstaend dat. . . . Hey, PP, if somebody would come in and take care of finishing my kitchen in a weekend, I'd jump on that in seconds! I don't care if it looks like the Taj Mahal after they finish, having it all done in two days flat sounds good to me. . . . al, she'z goet a kaemera hidin en hear, duzn't she? *skwatz doewn an staertz peakin en all da caebinitz* Hoew deed she noe whut I ware whin I'm wurkin? * beandz ober an pearz en da friedg* An whut goet all da peekilz?  
  
Leedle Peep: My muthur duezn't draess me. Ur muthur duz! Heahea! Nekzt I baet u waent dis stoerrie tu bea naemd "Da Modren-erth Aedvaentshurz of Leedle Peep an Legolas", doen't u?? *poekz u wid my feengur an taekz ur M an M'z*  
  
SperryDee: I em soe soerrie abot Charlie. I mees her tu. I proemis tu uepdayt loetz faestur, jest beacuz u askd. *Huegz u an gievz u a beeg kees, hoeldz u tite*  
  
Phoenix Flight: al sez tu due ur hoel howse wuld be growndz fur deevoerse. Da moeney izn't az empoertint az haveng a plase of peece an kwiyet. I wuld like tu hep soembuddie bild a howse won dae if dey deedn't hav tu liv dere wile we wurkd oen it. *seandz u a kees*  
  
Writer From Rivendell: Fortunately most everything we had in that area where it started could be cleaned or needed to be discarded anyway. We didn't lose much except the cabinets and the floor, though that's bad enough. U hav daengurus stueff en Cheemastree claess? Oeh, boey! Kin I coem? Puhleeze!? I due speek Sindarin an Quenya, buet dat oerk koemmint in Grey Elvis is tu guud tu paess uep. *kloezez my eyez an keesiz u agin, noew dat ur seextean an ar allowed tu due soe*  
  
anamariaevenstar: Iz dis ur furst tiem tu rite me a lub ledder? Oeh, boey! I'm glaed ur hear. *gievz u a beeg hueg* Noet all faengurlz puell hare, u noe. Sum jest keap peesiz of deefrint kiendz of traeshurz like harebrueshiz an uendurpaentz dat dey fiend en ur traeshbin. U wulndn't due dat, wuld u? *geeglz*  
  
Landos Star: al, she sed I'm kuet! No, she said your SNEEZES were cute, dear. Noe, she sed I'M kuet, sea? *al sighs and looks at the ceiling* Okay, dear, you're cute. We all know that. Hannon le, Landos Star. *blueshiz an gievz u a hueg*  
  
Katani Petitedra: Englash. U lernd abot Englash en Englash class. U noe, Yuel loegz an Fathur Chrestmiss, an Toed en da Hoel, an da Qwean, an Prance Wellium, an Buekenghaem Paelise, an all dat. Englash. *shaekz haed*  
  
Space-Case 7029: *throewz u a kees* We doen't let al taek eni nearve peelz. She'z a rek alredy. U shuld sea her peekin arond da haelwae doar, theenkin we doen't sea her. She iz dreenkin a lot tu. LEGOLAS! Whut? I am NOT drinking a lot! U dreenk a lot of tee, cuz u ar alwaez gittin in da wae reafeelin ur cuep. That's so I can keep an eye. . . Nevermind. *growls at Legolas*  
  
Lady Peredhel: Hey, LP. al here. I showed your comment to Yes Dear about keeping him for a dishwasher and that you thought I rock, and he stood there in the doorway for something close to ten minutes just staring blankly at me. Guess he never considered that possibility came with the marriage license before. I got a real kick out of it myself. It's always nice to know you rock. *grins* Hae, LP! I em glaed tu here u steel like elves. Hoew deed ur daet wid dat hueman guey goe? Deed he at leest taek a baf beafourhaend? *gieves u a hueg*  
  
Chan: *sukz a peekil soe I kin kees u agin, seanse PP duzn't like da taeste* I deedn't noe dat moeld wuld maek me sneaze ethur. My noze ez a loet bedder noew. Dat John! GGGGGUUUUURRRRR! I'd like tu shuut heem wid an aroe. Dat wuz Baaad! U goet a LOTR Peetza Huet meel? Woew! *trowtz oeff tu sea if al weel git PH fur sueppur*  
  
anna: It'z guud tu sea u agin! Remoeduleeng iz noet tuu haerd, an I doen't hav tu paey fur eni of it, soe I gess saeyin it iz fuen iz a guud ideea. *gievz u a beeg skweaze*  
  
Raider-K: Luuk, eberybuddie!! A neuw faengurl!! Hae, Raider-K! I em soe glaed u joyned us. U noe, noebuddie taekz me seariuslee. U'd theenk wid my poezishun as a prance dat sumbueddie wuld reaspekt me, buet nooooeeee. . . . I doen't theenk we weel bea goen tu Deezneewurld, buet dat'z okae. Liveeng wid al iz like Deezneewurld eberydae. *seandz u huegz an keesiz*  
  
Pineapple Princess: al sez thaenkz fur dat pikshur u seant her. Katz ar noet az guud a huenter az dey wuld hav u beeleeve. Dey ar purty laezee, at leest I theenk soe. OOOeeehhh! A wachin paertee! U wuld lub da eggsteandid vearzshun of TTT. Dere'z loetz of eggstrae me en it! *hear'z sum elbin lub fur u*  
  
Tricia: U goet dat rite! Of koerse my stoerree iz da baest noen-faek stoeree oen da net! Kungraedulashunz oen reedeeng da hoel thaeng at da saem tiem, an waelcoem tu da gruup! *gievz u a beeeeeg kees!* Thaenk u fur da mueffin. . . I lub doze bleuwbearry wonz da baest. Deed u git my "faek me" pikshurz yaet?  
  
Miss Aranel: Wekkum bak! U hav bean goen a loeng tiem! I meesd u! *gievz u a beeg hueg* al haz bean a reel worrier an haz noet cryed, at leest noet dat I noew abot. Sumtiemz she duz yaell tho. I wuld like tu sea ur Gander Mowntain stoer. I baet if I praktisd wid da kinue en dere, Gimli wuld siet steel whin I ried arond wid heem. He'z suech a weegul-wurm. He deed duemp us ober wonse. Whut a maess!  
  
Deb: I meanshund whut u sed tu Yeas Deer, an I theenk he weel bea beata reedin moer oeftin. al haz tuw deeshwaeshurz - Yeas Deer an me. I em trien tu teech Leedle Peep, buet she iz tuu smaert tu git her haendz ruffined bie hoet deeshwader. If u theenk "Haellz Baellz" is guud, u shuld sea me rok tu Billee Idul'z "Wite Weaddeng". Noew DAT'Z a site! *daensiz fur u*  
  
raukoiel: Peese owt tu u tuu! I deedn't noew u liv dat klose tu da faemus Moetur Speadwaey en Charlutte! I doen't hav enithang tu due noew dat da seezun iz ober. Deed u goe tu da raciz dere? Whoe iz ur faevurite drievur? I lub da Beeg Broewn Truek! *seandz u a X an a O*  
  
MagicalRachel: Hoem Deapoe iz a loet like Valinor! At leest, I hoep it iz! I hav noet bean tu Valinor yaet. Dat Elbereth keesid cownturtoep wuld stae kleen jest like an elf duz if we haed it en owr howse. I doen't theenk I weel git tu stae tu wurk at Hoem Deapoe, buet I weel keap dat en miend jest in kase, okae? *snuegglz u*  
  
Grammar Laedee: Soerrie dat da keechin wuzn't feenishd whin u caem fur Thaenksgeeving. Mebbe bie Chreestmus? I hoep u wear keeddin abot Leedle Peep eetin my feengur like a weanee. al sed she uzed tu plae da "heez tuchin me" gaem wid her bruthur. Deed she eber eet heez feengur? *gievz u a caerful hueg jest en kase al lernd tu biet feengurz like weeneez frum u*  
  
The Two Princesses: *ketchiz keesiz* Iz it suemmur dere? It iz wientur hear. It snoewd oen us yaesturdae, jest a feuw flaekz. I like ur gittin owt of skuul daense! Woew. . . it tuuk u tuw yeerz tu feenish ur keetchin? Dat muest bea cuz u deedn't hav me tu hep u. *drowpz haemmur oen toae* Owww! Soerrie. Deedn't meen tu yaell. Hearz sum huegz an keesiz fur u tu shaer - xoxoxoxoxoxoxxooxoxoxoxxoxoxoxo. Tael M dat al goet her e-male an weel seand it bak az suun az she kin. Aftur wile, krokadiel!  
  
leail: I mite hav tu giev deze paentz bak. U kin sea my neekapz en deze. U waent dem waeshd furst? *staeggurz bak whin u empakt my chaest tu git ur snoegg, hoepz PP wuzn't luukin*  
  
Cara7: We haed sum snoew whin we weant tu da mowntanz yaesturdae! It wuz vary purty. I sea dat beeg 7 beahiend ur naem noew! U goe gurl! *hie fievz u*  
  
Andy8: I reely waent dat Elbereth keesd won. Dis won iz nise tu tho. U kin ware ur sokz an slied oen it like dis . . . LEGOLAS! GET DOWN FROM THERE! Oooepz. Goetta goe!  
  
VladimirsAngel: OOoooeeh! A dubble skuup! *likz ise creem* Hannon le! Dat sneazin iz goen noew. I noe whut u meen abot Haldir an peenuet budder. He eben uzez it fur . . . *al smacks Legolas on the hand* DON'T YOU SAY IT! Okae, okae. Nebermiend. If u git moeld, u weel git dat neuw keetchin. Da smaell weel maek u due thaengz fur muney. . . . *keesiz u bak*  
  
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That's it for now. The next chapter is ready and we're running out of time! Write back quick so you can get your "lub ledder"! 


	18. Comedy, Romance, or Tragedy?

A/N: I warned you they would be coming fast and furious. It appears that some of you are having trouble submitting a review. If the submit box won't cooperate, just click my name in blue there and go back to the bio page. Click on my e-mail address and send your lub ledder like that. It won't count toward the total, but we don't really care about the numbers at this point. It's just good to hear from each of you.  
  
Big thanks to PuterPatty, who I am working to death right now with the constant beta'ing thing. Hang onto your hat, nin-mel, or "faek me" is liable to snitch it. Thanks to leail, too, who's just trying to keep up with the two of us. I won't be able to make it without you guys.  
  
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Chapter 18 Comedy, Romance, or Tragedy?  
  
Okay. The countertop's been ordered. We've checked to see that the linoleum can be matched to the undamaged part still left in the dining room and have ordered a new piece. The new stove is on its way, and the local hardware store that we bought it from has agreed to keep it until we're ready to install so that it doesn't have to sit out in the cold on the carport. The new sink is twice as deep, the new faucet twice as tall, and they're both as gleamy and shiny as a brand new quarter, sitting in their boxes in a corner of the dining room.  
  
Lil' Pip and I have only one week left before we finish the play we're currently in. I got snagged into doing this play by asking to paint the scenery and help build the set. Normally that's just a two-weekend sort of thing, an intense four days of climbing ladders and slinging paint, but not very long-term time consuming (plus I have Legolas, who's pretty good at painting and a real whiz at scaling extension ladders and reaching things no mortal would even attempt). Now I find myself with four acting parts, and one of them is the six-woman, three-part harmony, tap-dancing snake from the Garden of Eden.  
  
Did I mention I can't dance?  
  
Well, other than slow dancing with Yes Dear and doing the Electric Slide. I can do that. Otherwise, I pretty much have two left feet.  
  
I keep reassuring myself that I'll have four days to rest after the play closes before Joe comes to replace the floor, and then another week after that before the new cabinets will be here and ready for installing. Plenty of time, even for an inherently lazy mortal like me.  
  
Home Depot calls on Friday before the end of the play. The cabinets have arrived at the warehouse a week early, and they want to know when we can come to pick them up.  
  
Yes Dear's more than eager to go get them and get started. He takes Lil' Pip with him while Legolas and I make a place to put the boxes in the dining room. We have to move all of the things we had taken out of the old cabinets when we washed the mold off, stashing them here and there throughout the house. Soon the whole house is covered in dishes, Tupperware, toasters, spatulas, blenders, mixing bowls, baking paraphernalia, and colanders.  
  
In two hours time, we've gone from our reasonably messy state of living to total and complete chaos. There wasn't this big of a mess after Hurricane Hugo hit us at twenty miles south of ground zero fifteen years ago.  
  
Yes Dear and Lil' Pip pull up into the carport with the goods. We make quick work of dragging everything in. Legolas is so excited about the whole thing that he's hauling boxes at twice the speed of everybody else.  
  
"Dis is FUEN!" he exclaims as he flies by me through the screen door, his arms loaded with cardboard boxes.  
  
When all is said and done, we have added to our already bursting house a grand total of forty-eight boxes, six boards, one valance, and a bottle of touch-up repair liquid.  
  
Like we're really gonna need that, right?  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Legolas and Yes Dear manage to make it through the night without removing anything. They actually make it through all of Saturday too, but that's only because we're all busy down at the theater with the play. Yes Dear's been recruited as the props master backstage, and ends up being the one to make sure all thirty of the little children actors and actresses get stuffed into the correct costumes and gently shoved onto the stage at precisely the exact right moment. If they seem a bit reluctant, it's only because they've been there and done that every night for two weeks now, and they're bored with it. You can only watch videos in the Green Room so many nights in a row before your brain fries, even at four years old.  
  
Legolas is the props master's assistant. His job is to do whatever Yes Dear needs help with. This includes breaking up play fights, picking up the cards after the twentieth game of War in a row, making sure everyone gets a turn in the bathroom before intermission, and supervising the trips to the water fountain. (In case you're wondering why the water fountain needs supervision, it seems most of the children only reach halfway up the side of the thing, and they all need to be lifted and held while they get their drinks. The first night we had a litter of wet kittens onstage during the story of Genesis because no one was at the fountain to help them out. By the time we got to the Noah's Ark scene and a little water didn't matter, they had all dried out.)  
  
I really hadn't ever considered Legolas as a potential father until I rounded the stage left corner Saturday night at a sliding run, headed for a quick costume change in the dark at the bottom of the stairwell where I hoped no one could see me. There he stood, hunched over the water fountain, with little Amy-Elizabeth clutched under his arm, balancing her on his bent thigh as he used the other hand to help her push the button that makes the water come out. She was lapping at the water like a kitten, and he was giggling softly and nuzzling her hair with his forehead like a father cat might do.  
  
He's so good at this. He loves the children tremendously. I decide right then and there that he's got to go back home, if for nothing else to at least have the chance to have children of his own, children of his species that he can love and cherish forever. Not mortal children who will grow old and die before him, leaving him alone. Immortal children, sons and daughters of a father who will never grow old in their eyes, offspring of a noble and sacred race.  
  
Elflings.  
  
Whoa, now I'm late for my entrance back onstage.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Sunday arrives bright and sunny. After church, Legolas and Yes Dear set about dismantling my kitchen.  
  
"Goe?" asks elfboy, his hands clutched firmly on one of the lower cabinet doors.  
  
"No!" shouts Yes Dear.  
  
"Noe?"  
  
"No. We've got to have a plan."  
  
Elfboy stares. He blinks. He waits. Finally he questions, "A plaen?"  
  
"Yes. We can't just go ripping things apart. I'd like to use some of these cabinets out in the laundry room."  
  
"Oeh."  
  
An hour later, I find myself summoned to the kitchen. No more hiding in the computer room for me.  
  
Yes Dear is standing in the middle of the kitchen floor holding a hammer and a pair of vise grips. Legolas is standing in the middle of the hole where my moldy cabinet used to be.  
  
"I need you to help Legolas hold up the cabinet while I take the nails out of the wall and ceiling," says Yes Dear.  
  
You know, I'm thinking it would be a better idea if HE held the cabinet up while I take the nails out of the ceiling. Those suckers look heavy, and the piece he's pointing to with that hammer is three cabinets wide, apparently all hooked together as one piece.  
  
"You'll need to stand under there," he says, indicating the hole where Legolas is currently standing, trying not to touch anything because everything is still all black even though the mold has been bleached dead. The hole is only one cabinet wide. Legolas shimmies over a bit, but it's still quite a squeeze for both of us to fit in. We stand back to back, squatting down just a bit to get ourselves underneath the top cabinets, our arms above our heads supporting the bottom of the cabinets.  
  
Yes Dear drags over the little stepladder and climbs up to the top. He sticks his head inside the cabinet and begins hauling back on the nailheads in the ceiling.  
  
Legolas nudges me with his backside. "Deed u sea me uze da poewr dreel skreuwdrievur?"  
  
I can't see his face, but I can feel his grin straight through where his body is mashed up against mine. He's actually quivering.  
  
"No, Prance, I'm sorry I missed that. Yes Dear let you use the drill, did he? You're doing better than me then. He doesn't like me to touch the power tools."  
  
"I tuuk all da doars oeff. Sea?"  
  
He takes one hand off the cabinets above our heads and points. The cabinet drops about an inch.  
  
"Whoa! Whoa!" yells Yes Dear.  
  
"Soerrie!" says Prance Helpful. He puts his hand back on the bottom of the cabinet.  
  
"Actually, that's great, buddy. That pulled the nails out a bit. Now push it back up and let me see if the nailheads will stick out where I can get a better hold on them."  
  
We dutifully lift the cabinets together. Yes Dear pulls a few more nails and clambers back down the stepladder.  
  
"Okay," he says. "Now let's lower it."  
  
Legolas and I stop pushing up and prepare to take the weight of the cabinets. We both look at each other.  
  
"Stop pushing," I tell him.  
  
"I'm noet puesheeng. U ar," he retorts.  
  
"I'm not pushing, see?" I reply, taking my hands completely off the wood above my head.  
  
"Me eethur!" he answers, taking his hands off too.  
  
Nothing happens. Well, except that we're both foolishly standing beneath a bank of three cabinets that are suspended by nothing but magic above our heads and gaping at each other.  
  
"Hmmm. . . ," says Yes Dear. "Maybe I missed a couple." He climbs back up the stepladder and sticks his head into the cabinet. "Push it up again?"  
  
We push up. It goes up. He looks up. Finally he speaks up.  
  
"I don't see anything. Try pulling down on it."  
  
We both put a hand inside the cabinet and tug. The cabinet slides down about a quarter of an inch and stops again.  
  
"Hmmmm. . . . ," says Yes Dear.  
  
"Waent us tu due dat agin?" asks Prance Helpful.  
  
"Sure," answers my husband the engineer. "It must be just wedged in here between the doorframe and the other set of cabinets."  
  
Ten minutes later, with Legolas hanging by all fours from the bottom of the cabinet pulling for all he's worth and hubby and I tugging mightily at the cabinet from each end, Yes Dear decides we should take a break while he goes to get the crowbar to pry it from the ceiling. I've actually worked up a sweat, which I normally avoid if possible. I look over at Legolas, who's still just as pretty as if he were preparing to go to Council meeting.  
  
"Your hair's messed up," I tease.  
  
"Noe it'z noet!" he exclaims, reaching up to check his hair with his hands as he stands up quickly, completely forgetting that he's still standing under the cabinet. His right shoulder impacts the bottom of the cabinet hard, and as it does, the cabinet comes crashing down the wall. Prance Helpful has just enough time to leap out of the way, landing with a thud on his rear on the floor.  
  
"OOoooeeepppzzz!" he blurts, staring wide-eyed at the mess.  
  
"Are you okay?" I gasp.  
  
"Noe," he whines.  
  
"Legolas, tell me where you're hurt, sweetie," I plead, flying to his side to assist.  
  
"I goet saewduest en my haer noew!"  
  
Gees.  
  
While he frantically brushes the sawdust from his golden locks, I reach over and pull the neck of his t-shirt over so I can see his shoulder. There's not a mark on him. Not even a pink spot.  
  
"Kwit dat!" he growls, swatting at my hand. "Hep me git dis duest owda my hare."  
  
"Aw, leave it in there," says Yes Dear, returning with the crowbar. "It makes you look . . .real."  
  
"Reel?" asks the Prance.  
  
Yeah. Real.  
  
"C'mon, buddy. Let's get the rest of these down so we can start cutting with the circular saw."  
  
Elfboy's off the floor in a flash, his dusty mane forgotten.  
  
It takes most of the afternoon to get the rest of the upper cabinets down. After a short break for supper, garnered by car from the closest McDonald's, Yes Dear excuses me to go back to my typing on the compy. I'm not stupid. I know his real reason is to get rid of me so he can pull out the power tools.  
  
"You're getting out those loud tools again, aren't you, Daddy?" glares Lil' Pip. "That noise makes my stomach hurt."  
  
Without waiting for an answer, she's off down the hallway, presumably to watch some Scooby Doo videos on her television in her room.  
  
As I head for the computer room, I have no trouble spotting the twinkle in the Prance's eyes. He's so excited he's all but twitching.  
  
I lean over and whisper in Yes Dear's ear. "Don't you dare let him get hurt. Make him wear the safety goggles."  
  
"Quit worrying, okay?" he answers. "Nothing's going to happen."  
  
Oh yeah, baby. (c al)  
  
In less than five minutes the ear-splitting whir of the circular saw is roaring throughout the house, followed by hammering and the sound of the power drill. Then there's some grunting and some groaning, after which I hear some scraping and some sliding and then the sound of the back door being opened.  
  
The process repeats itself over and over. They're actually laughing in the midst of it all too, sort of a male-bonding thing I guess. I just hope Yes Dear's not teaching him any dirty jokes to take back to Middle-earth.  
  
Suddenly there's a loud yelp followed by the sound of something solid crashing into the floor. I leap from the computer chair and dash out to the other room, almost bowling Lil' Pip over as she does the same thing. From our collision spot in the hallway I can see Legolas digging in the freezer and Yes Dear running cold water over his hand in the bathroom sink.  
  
"What happened?" I ask.  
  
"I pinched my finger," says Yes Dear.  
  
"Oh. Is that all?"  
  
"Luuk at heez leedle feengur, al! It'z all swoellin uep alreedy!" Legolas hands over the ice pack he's found in the freezer.  
  
Sure enough, hubby's little finger is swelling like mad, just the last part where the fingernail is. It already looks like a very large red grape, you know those kind that have the seeds in them.  
  
"That's nasty, Dad," says Lil' Pip.  
  
"How'd you do that?" I ask.  
  
"Went to pull a nail from the wall, and the vise grip slipped and I bashed my finger into the side of the cabinet."  
  
"Woew. Dat'z ueglee," says the pretty Prance.  
  
I fix it up with a bit of Vet-Wrap adhesive pressure dressing that we keep for boo-boo's on our pets. Yes Dear returns to his dismantling not too worse for the wear, sporting a large bright purple bandage on the end of his little finger.  
  
"I like ur baendayd," I hear Legolas say. "Deedn't she hav eni grean wonz?"  
  
"Nope. No green. All she had left was pink," says my injured better-half. "You better be careful. You wouldn't want to get a pink one, would you?"  
  
"Gag, pink," says Lil' Pip, pretending to stick her finger down her throat. "Yuck."  
  
Legolas ponders this a moment before shaking his head no.  
  
Lil' Pip heads back to her room to finish her movie, and I head back to the compy to work on my beta reading. Yes Dear pulls Legolas aside as I walk by.  
  
"You've got your work cut out for you, buddy. I'm really gonna need you now."  
  
I look back over my shoulder to see the bright gleam of shining teeth from a smile that must be three yards wide. Elfboy's in seventh heaven.  
  
Soon the circular saw is roaring away again. I'm feeling more confident now, knowing that if Yes Dear's not able to saw then at least he'll have to supervise more closely since there's not much else he can do. That's about the time I hear it.  
  
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYY!!!!"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Lub Ledders frum Legolas  
  
Max Jive: Az u kin sea, dat power saew iz skaerrie! I hav meesd u! Welkum bak! *huegz an keesiz u bak*  
  
anna: Kungratshulashunz oen bying da Chreestmus praesuntz ursef! I lub tu goe tu da maell whin it'z kroewdid an set oen da baench seetz an wach da peepul. Dere stile of faeshuen amaeziz me. *bloewz u a kees*  
  
daw the minstrel: I theenk da laydee at Valinor neadz a vakashun. She seamz a bit peenchd. *rattlz baeg of kownturtoep cheepz* Dey due sownd perty, doen't dey? *seandz a hueg tu u*  
  
Landos Star: Sea, she sed I'm kuet. . . . You said that last time, now concentrate. Ar u fealin bedder?I doen't like tu here ur seeck. Da neuw keechin shuld bea redy bie Chreestmus. *huegz u agin kaerfuelly soe it duzn't huert*  
  
Writer from Rivendell: al sez I kin't coem tu laebz uentill I feenish en da keechin. Mebbe I culd coem on da seexteenth? Iz dat okae? Elves doen't git seeck soe I weel keez u eniwae *smuuch*  
  
Newmoon: *skweazez u* Buet havn't u sean da spaerkuleey shieny poetz an paenz, an da huendrid deefrint kiendz of shoewr kuertinz, an u kin eben git a wier thaeng tu haeng ur bandanaz oen fur da keechin! That's B.A.N.A.N.A.S., Prance. Bananas. Kin we git won? Honey, the bananas don't make it from the store to the house before you eat them now. What do we need one for? *sieghz*  
  
Katani Petitedra: Lieneer ekwashunz ar deze leedle wurmz dat sneek owt of ur maf buuk an kraewl entu ur eerz eif u fael aseleep duereeng klass. Bea kaerful. *patz u oen da haed*  
  
Tricia: Some seem to know who Legolas is, but in this town most aren't too concerned with his being a foreigner as long as he's just passing through, if you know what I mean. Hae, Tricia! I weel giv won of ur mueffinz tu Connie an sea if dat hepz. Deed u git my "faek me" pikshure yaet? I haed tu taek al'z chokolit coevurd chaerriez uentell she maled dem. *snuegglz u*  
  
Arienna DyBane: Wekkum bak! I meesd u! Hoew iz skool goeng? al sez ur kwestshun iz a guud won. Due u miend if she ansurz it en da neaxt awthur'z noetz? *gievz u an elf kuukie*  
  
Holly :o ) : *blueshiz* A Wael of Legolas? *geeglz* Oeh, deer! Dat sowndz soert of skaerie. Buet whie deed u steek a tyle oen da bak of da doar tu? *cueddlz u*  
  
Nilmandra: I mite noet bea maerried tu al, buet I doen't git tu due whuteber I waent. Doen't wurry abot al an Yaes Deer, dey ar MFEO, remimbur? *gievz u a grate beeg kees*  
  
JastaElf: *sings Jeopardy theme song with you while I wait for the Prance to recover* Yuck. Mold. Nasty stuff indeed. *helps the Prance up from the floor* Here you go. . . .Hae, Jasta! Kungratshulashunz oen ur Nonamowra theeng, kwest, meeshun. . . awaerd thaeng. Sae hae tu Ada fur me, okae? Doze hoet tueb paerteez reely ware a guey owt. I theenk dat da laydee at Valinor jest iz haevin a baed dae like Tricia sed. *skeepz da paert abot da peenuet budder an leatz Jasta taek caer of dat won all bie hersef* Hear'z a hueg an a kees fur u, Jasta. Giev Ada a skweeze fur me.  
  
Space-Case 7029: I spend most of my time nowadays getting ganged up on by a smelly man and an elf. It's good to know you're thinking of me. Hae, Audra! Wate teel u sea da koewntur toep! I em soe prowd! If u waent tu fiend owt hoew I lernd tu skee oen da shield, u shuld tipe en daw the minstrel'z naem en da fiend boex uep dere *poyntz tu da toep of da paege* an reed her stoerrie, "Watch This!" U weel lub it! *snuegglz u*  
  
The Two Princesses: I em noet alloewd tu plae wid da saew. Oenly seerius wurk, noe plaeing. Poewur griendur? Hummm. . .Dat sownds eenturaesteeng. . . . Eberythaeng iz payd fur alraedee. We haed tu uze da Deezneewurld muney, buet dis kunstrukshun wurk iz jest az muech fuen, I theenk. I puet won of doze keesiz oen my toew whur I droeppd da haemmur oen it laest tiem, buet I theenk I mite nead sum moer if u hav sum tu spaer, az u kin sea. Hear'z sum fur u tuu! *xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox*  
  
Lady Peredhel: Bea shur u giev it bak whin u ar dun den! Da PC, I meen. I sneek entu maerrige klaess all da tiem an noebuddie seamz tu miend, I theenk u mite culd coem tu. I em waeteeng tu here all abot da daet wid da frashlee-kleend hueman. *bloewz keesiz fur u tu keap*  
  
Michelle6: I haed a guud Thaenksgeeveeng. We weant tu Ryan'z Staekhowse an aet wae tuu muech fuud! We culd eet eben moer beacawze we deedn't hav tu kleen it uep! *Beeg huegz u*  
  
MagicalRachel: I doen't plae wid da poewr tuulz. Oenlee seriius wurk. Yaes Deer sez dey ar noet toeyz. Thaenk u fur da envitashun tu coem tu Eenglaend an stae wid u. al sez thaenk u tuu. I saevd dis jest fur u *KEES*  
  
PuterPatty: GGGAAAAAAEEEEEHHHH!!!! *cuvurz uep da moest teekleesh spoet wid bof haendz, groewlz at u* Giv me dat faethur. *graebz it frum u* Hae, it'z noet DAT kiend of maerrige klaess. We ar a vary fuen an seely gruup. Dey wuld hav tu bea, leatteng al breeng tuu mailz tu klaess wid her. Whut du u meen, elves and poewr saewz wearn't MFEO? Sea hoew I haenduld dat kraenkee Connie? She jest haed a baed dae an neadid tu liten uep. Da gesseeng gaem iz guud fur dat. al sez she wuld juemp oen gitting sumwon tu due da Traedeeng Plaesiz thang wid her tu due da keetchin. Oeh, goesh! Luuk ober dere! Iz dat da guey whoe theenkz he iz me? He'z NEKKID!! *wates teel u luuk an den teekulz u wid da faethur en UR moest teeklesh plase!* Heahea! Soe gullabull. . . .  
  
VladimirsAngel: I proemiss tu bea vary kaerful frum noew oen wid da poewur saew. *wheespurz en ur eer* I kaen't tael enibuddie abot da peenuet bueddur. Haldir thraetund tu uze it oen me if I deed. *seandz u a kees an a hueg*  
  
Angaloth: I LUB POEWUR TUULZ. I em goeng tu git a t-shurt dat sez dat an ware it uendur my toonik whin I goe bak tu Meedl-erth. I kin git ur lub ledderz jest as ezy frum da e-male, soe jest keap sinding dem dat wae if da siete woent wurk fur u. **kueddlz u*  
  
leail: Coem an plae wid my tylez, baybee. I kin shoew u thaengz. . . . *leekz leepz beafour snoegging u*  
  
Cara7: A snoe elf! I lub snoe elfz! Dat wuld bea grate. I steel neber deed lern tu ried a biek. I gess I culd uze sum leassunz oen dat tu. U neber deed tael me ur faevurit culur, nin mellon. Whut iz it? *seandz u a hueg*  
  
Andy8: Sea?? Neuw koewnturtoepz kin bea a loet of fuen! U shuld trie it baerfuut wid da deesh soep tuu, noew DAT'Z sumptin tu sae, "Watch Dis!" fur. Tael ur mum u waent tu reed daw the minstrel'z stoerrie abot me lerneeng tu skaet oen a sheeld. Den u kin sae, "Wach Dis!" tuu! *hie fievz u wid my soepy haendz*  
  
kimmaree: *seandz u huegs an keesiz* U kin alwaez tipe al'z e-male if da siet iz noet wurkin. I chek doze tu. We git a loet moer dat wae, an we hav gievin uep on reechin a thowsend reeveewz eniwae. Da e-male adraess iz oen al'z bio paege whur "faek me" iz. I woen't bea hear fur Chreestmus dis tiem, buet I weel bea theenkin of all of u. *seandz u anuthur hueg an kees*  
  
Grammar Laedee: Oeh! Yaeh, dat Leedle Peep iz won tu wach owt fur. She'z jest like her mum. She duz akt like my seestur Laerlend bak en Mirkwood. I weel taek ur advize an neber leat her noe I em pertekteeng her. Dat sowndz like a guud ideea. *Huegz u bak an seandz a beeg kees*  
  
Deb: I keap taelling eberybuddie dat eberythaeng weel bea alrite. I sertinlee hoep I'm rite. I kin danse tu all da Beedlez, an Beely Idoel, an Stickz, an Jurney, an of corse, Jon Deanvur. I reely rok doeng "Thaenk Gawd I'em a Kuntree Boey". It'z a guud theeng u rote whin u deed, I wuz jest abot tu puesh poest! **seandz u sum sweat elbin lub, baybee!*  
  
Raider-K: Oeh yaeh, baybee! (c Legolas) I em sumpthaeng wid poewur tuulz. *wheepz da skreuwdrievurs arond like leedle wite nifz* Sea? Uhm, Prance? Yaes? Those screwdrivers aren't power tools. They're just Phillips heads. *luukz at da skreuwdrievurz* Oeh, yaeh. . . . *Geeglz an bloewz u a kees*  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Next post this weekend. Better hurry, I'm typing as fast as I can and I hope you'll do the same. Don't want you to miss out on the free elf lovin' while it lasts. Less than two weeks left, and counting. . . . but I don't want to talk about it. 


	19. Tool Time

A/N: Arienna DyBane asked an interesting question: "And al, what are you going to do if Legolas falls out of RotK after the movie, too? There aren't any more after that!"  
  
And the answer? I don't know. I don't expect he will fall out of RotK. I just don't know.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter 19 Tool Time  
  
"I said HOLD STILL!"  
  
"I kin't! It HUERTZ!"  
  
"I can't very well fix it if you don't stop fighting! This is a damned fine bloody mess you've gotten yourself into this time, you know."  
  
"OOOOOOeeeeeeewwwwwwwwww! al!"  
  
"I thought you were a warrior. Warriors are tougher than that," says Lil' Pip, clearly not impressed with the Prance's pain tolerance.  
  
"OOOEEEWWWW!!! Tampa tanya, al!"  
  
"Geez, he squeals like a girl," complains Lil' Pip.  
  
"Shued uep!"  
  
"Don't say shut up," lectures Yes Dear from the floor where he's working hard to restrain the Prance to keep him from doing any more damage to himself. "It's not nice."  
  
I take advantage of the distraction of their arguing to stand up and try to find something to get us out of this situation. Moving to the bathroom closet, I grab the first aid kit and a couple of towels and hurry back to the kitchen. Kneeling by the Prance's head, I open the kit and take out some antibiotic cream, some gauze pads, some cotton-tipped applicators, and the little needle-nosed pinchers called hemostats.  
  
"NOE! NOE! NOET DA SEEEZIRZ!!" wails Prance Helpful.  
  
"Hold still. You're only making things worse with all this struggling," I say, whispering so he'll have to listen closely as I squeeze some of the greasy antibiotic cream onto a gauze pad and hold the pad to the sawblade where it's so firmly embedded. As I work the cream in with my right hand, I start to stroke his cheek with the back of my left, hoping the gesture will reassure and comfort him. "I'm not going to cut you. I'm going to work some of this antibiotic cream in here and then see if I can get you loose from this blade, okay?"  
  
"Okae," he whimpers. His baby blue eyes are locked on mine.  
  
Once I've got every millimeter covered in the oily cream, I lay out a couple more of the gauze squares where I can reach them easily and pick up the hemostats. Pulling gently with tiny tugs, I start to separate him from the circular saw.  
  
After about ten minutes, I make eye contact with Yes Dear.  
  
"This is really bad, you know."  
  
"I know."  
  
"I'm not sure I can do this."  
  
"I know."  
  
Another ten minutes passes. Legolas is lying very still flat on his back there between us with his eyes closed, concentrating on breathing with little shallow inhales and exhales, trying incredibly hard to be patient and cooperative.  
  
"Iz it gitteng eni bedder?" he whispers.  
  
"Yes," I lie. "I appreciate how quiet you're being. It's a lot of help, sweetie. Hang in there for just a little bit longer."  
  
Yes Dear wipes his hand across his forehead. "You want me to try?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Trade places with me."  
  
He takes the hemostats and the gauze pads from me and, as he starts to pick and pull, says softly, "You said to make him wear the safety goggles."  
  
"I know," I reply. "And I see he's still wearing them, though they're not much good in a situation like this."  
  
Yes Dear bristles at me. "Well, neither one of us really expects a medal. I vote we bag him into the van and haul him down to the ER and see what they can do."  
  
"What a wuss. . . ," mumbles Lil' Pip from the recliner where she's reading her latest Nancy Drew mystery.  
  
"You know we can't do that. We'll just have to handle this ourselves." I stop to consider my alternatives, and the only thing I can come up with is the same thing I've been avoiding for the past half hour. "I don't want to do this, but if I use the scissors to sever just that one little place there, I think I can work him loose without hurting him any more. . . ."  
  
"Might as well get on with it then," decides the Man of the House.  
  
"Noe, puhleese. . . noet da seezirs. . . ," whines the Prance, watching me reach to pick them up from the first aid kit.  
  
"I have to, baby. I'm sorry," I say reassuringly as I use the curved bandage scissors to make a tiny cut by reaching down in between the sawblade and the metal handle.  
  
A yelp and three more tugs with the hemostats later, the Prance pops free. He's off the floor in a flash and halfway to the bathroom before I can even stand back up to follow him.  
  
I find him staring at himself in the mirror, his face a mask of despair. In his hand he cradles his left warrior braid, or at least, what's left of it.  
  
"Oeh, al! Jest luuk at my hare!" he cries.  
  
"It's only an inch, Legolas. We can trim it all the way around, and it will all match again. If you don't say anything, no one will know any better."  
  
He lets out a humongous sigh.  
  
Poor baby.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
We manage somehow to get all of the old cabinets out of the kitchen, and put up the bank of new upper cabinets by late Wednesday night. The last thing Yes Dear took out before bedtime was the cabinet that holds up the kitchen sink.  
  
I never realized how many times a day Legolas washes his hands. No sooner had he deposited the old moldy cabinet outside in the pile we had ready to go to the landfill when here he came ready to wash his hands. He stopped there where the cabinet once stood, realized his error, and giggled out loud before trotting off to the bathroom sink instead.  
  
That was the FIRST time.  
  
By midnight, exasperated sighs of frustration were occurring on an average of every ten minutes or so. In the next two hours, the sighs increased not only in intensity of frustration, but intensity of volume as well. Here's what it sounded like:  
  
*sound of footsteps crinkling along on the plastic sheeting covering wet, moldy plywood*  
  
"AAAUUURRRGGGHHH!!!"  
  
*sounds of footsteps first crinkling on plastic, then padding on carpet, then slapping on tile*  
  
*sound of water running in the sink*  
  
*sounds of water stopping*  
  
*sounds of padded footsteps on carpet again*  
  
Legolas is a night owl like myself. Both of us can stay up and wide awake as long as the stars are shining in the heavens. That's often when we get our best work done. Unfortunately for me, daybreak means the rest of the humans in our household and all over the world are expecting me to be alert and capable during sunlit hours as well. Legolas, being an elf, sneaks in those "waking dreams" and can get away with not lying in bed for days if he wants to.  
  
Thus, the sounds of elven frustration and distress about cleanliness are not particularly welcome at 3:00 am in this particular household. It also happens that being awake and dressed before 8:00 am when Joe is expected to arrive to start on repairing the floor is a problem for me. Bleary eyed, I stand at the back door and peer out, waiting for him to drive up.  
  
At 8:30 am, I get a phone call from Joe. He's going to be a little late because there wasn't enough (fill in the blank with the name of some random piece of construction equipment yourself - I already said I was bleary) and he needed to go to Greenville to get more.  
  
I don't have enough time for a quick nap, so I put a CD on to keep me awake. Soon Legolas is sashaying about in the den, rocking to Billy Idol. Half an hour later, he's doing the Conga with Gloria Estefan and the Miami Sound Machine. Soon he's showing me some Middle-earth moves, and I'm teaching him The Electric Slide. That's about the time Joe knocks on the carport screen door. When I open it, he and Lou are giggling like schoolgirls.  
  
Didn't I say before I can't dance?  
  
Legolas abandons Gloria like she's a hot Latin-baked tamale. In a flash, he's outside directing Joe how to park his trailer in the yard without hitting the flowerpots or bogging down in the low spots out by the laundry line. He totes two-by-fours, drags plastic tarp material, sweeps off the carport, and generally waits on Joe hand and foot.  
  
Joe comes inside, admires Yes Dear's work on the new upper cabinets, and then pulls me aside. "Is it okay if he does all this? The price I quoted you didn't include having him help me with the labor."  
  
"It's fine with me, as long as it's okay with you."  
  
"Okay, then. . . ."  
  
Hmmmm. I wonder if he would have quoted me a higher or a lower price, figuring in an elven princeling as a carpenter's helper. Oh, well. . . .  
  
Joe takes his new apprentice out to the truck and fits him with a toolbelt, showing him how to hang a hammer off his hip so he can draw it like one of those Western six-shooters. After half a dozen false starts, they rehang the belt a bit crooked so it hangs more like a sword in a sheath instead. That seems to solve the Prance's problem, and he's soon drawing quicker than Joe or Lou can.  
  
I head back to the computer room and leave them alone to do their work. I've found that hanging over competent workmen is just a waste of time, and I certainly think highly of Joe and Lou. Joe's wife works at the same place where Yes Dear used to work, and she and I have also done some local charity sort of things together. Her granddaughter is in the same school program as Lil' Pip. It seems our whole family hangs out together at company picnics and local gatherings, so having Joe bang a nail in my kitchen doesn't concern me in the least.  
  
After about half an hour, I head out to refill my tea glass from the pitcher in the refrigerator. I find the refrigerator sitting dead center in front of the sliding glass door in the den. Joe's hung plastic sheeting over the doorway to keep the smell from wafting down the hall, but the odor when I push through and enter the den is enough to knock a buzzard off a . . . uhm. . .high tree branch.  
  
Legolas is in the kitchen gleefully scooping the particle board up off the plywood subfloor with a huge shovel like those that you find in a horsebarn for cleaning stalls. The rot has gotten so bad that he doesn't even have to work to break it apart. It's literally just scooping right up.  
  
What's really funny is that his T-shirt is now draped over the back of the recliner, and he's managed to drag his jeans down his lean hips until he's got about 6 inches of green plaid boxer shorts hanging out of the top of his pants. The toolbelt is slung at a cockeyed angle across his pelvis, and the hammer rests there in front where he has to push at it every time he bends over to keep from skewering his belly on it. He's also managed to finagle a 25-foot tape measure, a roll of black electrical tape, and a Phillips head screwdriver to attach to the belt as well.  
  
The only problem I see with this picture should be readily apparent to those of you who can get your eyeballs back inside your skull.  
  
*Snaps fingers* C'mon, work with me here. . . .  
  
What's so wrong with this picture? That's easy. The long blond locks are hanging freely about his shoulders, swaying in time with the movement of those hips hanging out of the top of his boxers.  
  
He turns around to start a new row of scooping, and when he bends over to slide the blade of the shovel under the mess of mold and particle board, sure enough, there's the plumber's crack. Or is that carpenter's crack? I'll let you be the judge of that one.  
  
I head over to where he's standing, trying not to sneeze from the smell of all the mold. Tapping him on the shoulder, I wait until he rises and looks at me before taking his silky hair in my hands and beginning to braid.  
  
"You've earned Carpenter's Braids today, nin mel. Let me bestow them upon you."  
  
He positively glows as he stands and lets me wind his hair into a single braid down the back of his head, securing it with one of the rubber bands taken from my own warrior braids that his lightning fingers so carefully put in for me this morning.  
  
"There. Now you're truly a Carpenter's Apprentice."  
  
"Due I reely luuk like a Caerpintur'z Apraentise, al?"  
  
"You most certainly do."  
  
He looks down at himself, admiring the toolbelt I'm sure. "Due u like my owtfeat? Joe maed it fur me." He pauses for a moment, considering something, then adds, "I hoep u doen't miend dat I tuuk oeff my shurt."  
  
Without thinking, I respond, "Nin caun, as long as this gets done today, I wouldn't care if you did it completely naked."  
  
Out of the corner of my eye I see his lightning fast hand dart to his waist, his nimble fingers working at the buckle of his belt.  
  
"NO! NO! It was a . . . ."  
  
His chortling outburst could probably be heard clear to town. "I noe, al. It wuz a feegur of speaech. I wuz jest teezeeng u."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Lub Ledderz frum Legolas  
  
Landos Star: Thaenk u fur ur guud hoepz dat I wuz okae. I'm glaed u ar fealeeng a loet bedder. Due u theenk it wuld bea okae fur me tu ruen arond wid doze leedle meeny-Legolas'es? Ore iz dat spaelld Legolie? Legolee? Legolum? I dunnoe. I wuzn't plaennin oen haveng eni Legolaesues, seense I spaend all my tiem wid da boeyz moestlee. *keesiz u noew dat u ar bedder*  
  
daw the minstrel: I lub da leedle akturz an aktrissez at da plae! Dey ar soe kuet en dere leedle koestumz. Maekz me waent tu bea an aktur mysef whin I groe uep. Eberybuddie sez I luuk like Orlando Bloom eniwae. Mebbe I culd git a joeb az heez stuentmaen. Hummmm. . . . Plaenned? Oeh, noe, mellon- nin, dis iz noen-fikshun. We doen't plaen it. We jest reapoart it. *seandz u sum spaeshul elbin lub*  
  
SperryDee: Oeh, my guudniss! Poewur tuulz an loashun ar noet MFEO! I bet ur ada wuz noet tuu haeppy abot dat. I droepped da haemmur oen my toe tuu chaepturz bak wile I wuz taelkin tu da Two Princesses, an dat deed huert endeed. *gievz u a grate beeg hueg*  
  
Max Jive: *haendz al anuthr boex of Kleenex soe she kin wiep her eyez frum all her laffin* I theenk al liked ur ideea of goen tu da Bahamaz. She staertid laffin an hazn't kwit yaet. She keapz muetturin sumpthaeng abot gittin her oewn pursunal pierate or soemptin like dat. Da Grammar Laedee alwaez sez dat stressed iz jest desserts spaelld bakwurdz. I taek it u like me coevurd en saewduest? Coem hear. . . .*gievz u a saewduest coevurd kees tu keap*  
  
ariarwen: Maerrie Chreestmus tu u tuu! *ketchiz keesiz an keapz dem saef. Bloewz u sum moer*  
  
SarWolf Snape: Hannon le! Da poewur tuulz kin bea fuen, buet dey ar noet toeyz. Dat'z whut Yaes Deer alwaez sez. *seandz u a kees*  
  
JastaElf: *sings along to our new theme song* Now here's Legolas Trebek! *points at the Prance as he drags himself off the floor, wipes the drool from his chin* Honestly, Jasta, you're going to hurt him one day with that trick. . . . Hae, Jasta! Hae, Ada! Ada, doen't luuk at me like dat. Ur maekin me naervus. Hannon le fur taelkin tu Gandalf fur me. It iz fuennie dat noebuddie meanshund enithaeng abot me beeng goen laest tiem ethur. Doen't crie yaet, Jasta. Ada duzn't like heez roeb tu git soeggie. *huegz u bof beafour goeng bak tu wurk en da keetchin - goetta huerrie noew. . . .*  
  
Phoenix Flight: Noep, poewur tuulz are NOET TOEYZ. I deed luze an empoertint biet, buet u kin't reely tale noew dat al treemd it uep. *snuegglz u*  
  
Nilmandra: Oeh, my guudniss!! U waent tu bare MY elfleengz? My naneth wuld hav toeld u taelz dat wuld kuerl ur hare. If dey ar enithaeng like me, I shuld neber hav eni of my oewn. I weel jest boerroe eberybuddy elsiz elfleengz. Den eberywon wuld lub me. *kloziz my eyez fur ur kees, openz dem bak uep wid a luuk of suerprize at whut ur doen wid ur tung dere*  
  
Lady Peredhel: Soe ur da leedle staer, ar u? Woew, dat's sumthang aelse. Sowndz like he'z en lub. Yaes, I like ur skertz tu. Wareing dem iz a guud ideea. Maek shur u uze at leest 4 spuunz of suegur en dat coeffee soe u weel bea eben sweedur whin he keesiz u. *huegz u soe u hav plaentee of keesiz fur dat hueman*  
  
Miss Aranel: Luuk at my hare! Weel, u kin't sea it enimoer seanse al treemd it, buet it wuz all meased uep oen da eand dere! *duz a leedle biet of al'z taep dansin rooteen* Dis iz hoew it wuz SUEPPOZD tu luuk. . . Stop that, Legolas! Sooo not funny! *geeglz an seandz u a kees*  
  
elf from Rivendell: Mae Govannen tu u tuu, elf from Rivendell! Hav u bean hear beafour? al'z howse alwaez haz sumpthang goen oen. I weel bea heded bak tu Meedl-erth en a weak. Namarie furn noew! *waevz an bloewz u a kees*  
  
Katani Petitedra: *nokz oen da cuepbord doar* U okae en dere? Maek shur u chek ur eerz wile ur en dere! *paessiz u da Q-teepz*  
  
Writer from Rivendell: Oeh, goesh! I furgoet! I gess I weel bea bizzy den tuu. Hear'z a nise skweaze fur u ensted of a kees *SKWEAZE!*  
  
anna: Deed u sea dat guey whoe theenkz he iz me oen da teevea tudae? Whut iz roeng wid hiz tung? He jest caen't keap it en heez mouf, kin he? He duz luuk a leedle bit like me, duzn't he?  
  
Space-Case 7029: Heh. Now I have FOUR laborers to keep me running, and somehow I'm not certain any of them are actually working for free. *gievz u a BEEG HUEG!* MMMMMMMMMMM! Hersheez Keesiz! Hannon le!! *oepunz da baeg an staertz peeking da leedle rapperz oef wile al steelz dem whin she theenkz I em noet luukin*  
  
Holly :o ) : I'm okae. Dat huert tho. I doent rekkummand it tu enibuddie. I weel bea wachin fur a broewn haerd Eowyn whin ROTK coemz nekzt weak. *Seandz u a snueggle dis tiem*  
  
VladimirsAngel: Due u theenk dey weel steel leat me bea en da "Saexy Gueyz en Haebaernz" shuut aftur whut haeppind tu my hare? If noet, whur weel dey puet me? Da 'Noet soe MFEO' shuut? Oeh, deer. . . .*sheevurz an kueddlz uep tu u*  
  
Neoma: Woew! Thaenkz fur joyneeng us! U almoest meesd me! I em glaed u enjoyed reedeeng abot me. I hoep u reed all da wae tu da eand soe u weel git dis meassage. *huegz u*  
  
Arenna DyBane: Deed u sea ur kwestshun uep dere at da toep of da paege? Dat wuz sum guud theenking oen ur paert. *gievz u a beeg kees fur theenkin soe haerd!*  
  
Tricia: al'z lub fur choklit cuvurd chaerriez iz wurld faemus. Won yeer (beafoer she neuw abot ME!) she sed all she waentid fur Chreestmus wuz Wurld Peese and a boex of choklit cuvurd chaerriez. Seense noebuddie culd giev her da Peese, she goet 23 boexez of chaerriez ensted. It tuuk her tial Juely tu eet dem all, buet she deed it! MMMmmmmm . . . POEWUR tuuls. Jest luuk at da wurd. . . . POEWUR *haz a leedle 'moemint' bie misef hear* Oeh, soerrie. *gievz u a smuuch oen da cheak*  
  
Angaloth: Loeng live da Muthurboerd! Whoooeee Hooeee!! (c Celeborn) U sownd like Gimli whin u sae "Poewurtuulz, vary daengurus". We hav oenly haed a duesteeng of snoe wile we wear en da mowntaenz gitting a Chreestmus trea oen da Friedae aftur Thaenksgeeving. Roelling en da snoe shur iz fuen! *duestz da snoe oeff u an gives u a waerm-uep hueg*  
  
PuterPatty: Lil' Pip here. No you don't wish you had an elf! He can be a royal pain in the butt, and I mean it! Just think of all the trouble he gets into. Now, Pip, he's not that bad. Maybe we can just LEND him to PP for a little while. I'm sure she could keep him busy, if nothing else he could just work on her car all day (heehee!). . . . *pueshiz al an Leedle Peep owda da wae* I goet a beeg poewurfuel thaeng rite hear fur u baybee. . .OOUUUMMMPPPHH! *gitz da wiend nokd owda me whin u fuel boeddie takul me like dat* Whooeea. . . . U deedn't tael me U haed a beeg poewurfuel thaeng tuu! *groewlz an snoegz u a guud won*  
  
Grammar Laedee: AAAEEIIYY! *puets a loeng elbin haend ober ur eyez* U deedn't sea dat. Doen't luuk uep dere, okae? *takes the keyboard away from the Prance* Hi, mom. I think AEIY is the noise an elf makes when he's just gotten caught by his grandma while kissing his girlfriend. *snaechiz keabowrd bak* Doen't tael her dat!!! An doen't tuch me, eethur. I'm not touching you. Yaes, u ar. No, I'm not. Yaes u AR! No, I'm not touching you. . . I'm close, but my skin is not connecting with yours. . . GRAMMAR!!! MAEK HER STOEP!!!  
  
Gwilwileth: My Laedee. I em hoenurd dat u eggspaerianced suech deelite en reedeeng abot me. I em eber luuking fur wayz tu hep othurz. Soe u hav a klown of me? Dat ez vary eenturaesteeng. He sowndz like a vary nise elf tu hav arond. Ur weeshiz ar vary wekkum an appreesheatid bie us all. I em soe vary glaed u fownd us. I hav sumthaeng jest fur u *gievz u sum guud elbin lubbin an a geantul kees az weel*  
  
Ithilas: Mae Govannen, Ithilas! It iz guud to hear dat u ar hear tu hep wid da laedeez of Modren-erth. Dere wear wae tu meeny fur jest me aloen, tho I em reluktaent tu sae dat alowd. Beasiedz, wonse Patty gits thru wid me, dere weel be noethin laeft fur eni of da othur tikithoeldurz. Thies iz a guud wurld, buet I em afrade my faet liez en Meedl-erth wid da Fellowship. I muest reaturn. I like ur ideea abot seengeng elvish tu al if she wear tu git seeck agin, buet Yaes Deer wuld noet leeve enithaeng of me whin he goet dun, if dere wuz enithaeng fur heem tu staert wid in da furst plase wonse al goet dun wid me. *shueddurz* I adoer da Lindor Trueffulz an alsoe dat arrow dat u maed. U ar a fien kraeftzman, an shuld bea vary prowd of ur wurk. Namarie fur noew, Ithilas. Hannon le fur fiending me an leatting me noe u ar owt dere. *claespz ur shoeldur en da worrier'z faerwael*  
  
Jessymick: I em soe glaed u hav bean reedeng my stoerriez! Thaenk u fur tipeeng tu me. Mae ur dreemz bea filld wid staerlite an waerm breeaziz kees ur faece. *huegz u*  
  
Leedle Peep: I waentid tu goe tu kaemp tuu! I haed tu stae hoem wid da doeggie. NOET FAER! *powtz* . . . Hello, Pip. I don't usually talk back to you because these are really Legolas' lub ledders, and he usually does most of the talking and I do most of the telling. There's a difference, you know. I'm glad camp was so much fun. Thanks for taking your dad with you and giving me a three day vacation from him.  
  
Chan: Due u like my hare kuet? U kin't reely tael it'z bean treemd, kin u? I haed bean gitting soe loeng eniwae.*strykez a poze wid da haemmur an haendsaew fur u* I jest luuk guud en tuulz, doen't u theenk? *bloewz u a kees*  
  
The Karenator: Ar u okae? I wuld hav seant u a kaerd if I neuw u wear noet fealeeng wael. I hoep eberythaeng iz okae noew? I hav my eerpluegz rite hear. *paetz pokit of my jeenz* I weel bea haeppie tu sea my familee, buet dere iz wurk tu bea dun furst. *gievz u a geentl skweaze*  
  
leail: *seengz* Haeppie Burfdae tu u! Haeppie Burfdae tu u! Haeppie Burfdae, deer leail! Haeppie Burfdae tu u! I hoep u haed a guud tiem, an da u goet eberythaeng u waentid. Deed Cara7 an Andy8 fiend u da perfikt geeft? Jest haevin dem is perty purfkict, I theenk. *huegz tu eberybuddie*  
  
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Better hurry. Next chapter in two days. Lub ledders are almost over. Don't miss yours! 


	20. The Difference Between the Men and the B...

A/N: This is a non-fiction story. I remind you once again of that fact, because as I was proofreading before posting this, I found myself shaking my own head in disbelief. I'm too tired to change anybody's name. If it looks like you and sounds like you, it's YOU, okay?  
  
Thanks again to PuterPatty and leail for the instant beta services. They're working overtime to make sure you're getting these chapters the second I finish typing them.  
  
I make no claim or profit from the mentioning of Vanna White and "Wheel of Fortune", nor do I mean her any harm. She's a goddess, and I wish I looked that good. I won't say 'at her age', because I AM her age. I have no claims to any of the other brand names or chains included in here either.  
  
Anor is elvish for the sun.  
  
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Chapter 20 The Difference Between The Men and The Boys  
  
The morning wanes on with the happy sounds of mass destruction ringing in my ears. Scraping, sawing, hammering, creaking, and grinding waft through the air, punctuated with the sounds of grunting and groaning and humming and even the occasional elven giggle. Every time I hear the back door open, I visualize one more piece of moldy wood working its way out the door to the debris pile in the backyard. It's the melodious sound of Joe's voice saying, "You want to try the Sawsall, Legolas?" that sends my hair standing straight up on end.  
  
"No," my brain whispers inside my skull. "Just say no." I already promised Yes Dear this morning that I would stay in the computer room and not interfere. He called it "micromanage," but we all know I'd NEVER do that.  
  
"Oeh, boey! Dat wuld bea grate!" exclaims the Prance.  
  
Yeah, that's what I figured.  
  
I turn up the volume on the CD player beside me and go back to working on my beta reading responsibilities. A few minutes later, a worried looking elf-prince shows up at my door.  
  
"Joe waentz tu noe whur da braekur boex iz."  
  
"It's in the coat closet right there behind you. Do I need to turn the power off? Let me save this chapter I'm working on. Just a second. . . . "  
  
"No, no," says Joe from behind Legolas where he's already opening the closet door and flipping switches in rapid sequence. "You won't have to do that."  
  
"Is anything wrong?" I ask, watching Prance Helpful nervously hitch his jeans up over his boxer shorts.  
  
"Roeng?" gulps the Prance.  
  
"Oh, no, nothing to worry about," says Joe, turning to flash me a dazzling smile with many more teeth than he usually keeps in there. "I just need to turn the power to the refrigerator off."  
  
Okay. So I'm not going to worry. Nope. I don't really need to know why all of a sudden the refrigerator power needs to be cut off, especially since the refrigerator is plugged into a socket all the way over in the den.  
  
Joe dashes back through the plastic sheeting to the kitchen at about five times his usual speed, with Prance Helpful hot on his heels. This has got to be a bad sign. I can't stand it any longer, so I push back from the keyboard, drain my tea glass, and head through the plastic to see what's going on.  
  
"How's it coming?" I ask, walking nonchalantly over to the refrigerator and opening the door to refill my glass. The little refrigerator light in there is working just fine. I peer over the cluster of heads gathered around the electrical socket over there near the back door where the refrigerator usually sits. All three of them are staring down where the wire now protrudes down out of the wall at floor level from the socket from above. On closer inspection, I see the matching wire that is protruding up from the plywood flooring itself.  
  
Hmmm. There used to be only one wire there.  
  
"It's coming along," Lou says. "Slight delay, but we're working on it."  
  
The Prance is busy doing his imitation of a box turtle that's just been picked up by a gang of small boys.  
  
Joe reaches over toward Legolas and pops the roll of black electrical tape from his toolbelt. He tears off a chunk and proceeds to hook the wiring back together.  
  
"There we go. All fixed," says Joe. He picks up the Sawsall from its spot on the floor beside the newly taped wiring and hands it to Prance Helpful. "Okay, buddy, keep going."  
  
"Ar u shur?" asks the Prance.  
  
That's about the time I realize what just happened. Legolas apparently just sawed his way through a live electrical wire carrying 120 volts of electricity and lived to tell about it. Except right now he's not telling.  
  
"It was just an accident. No harm done," Joe says, switching the Sawsall on and pointing to the place he wants Elfboy to resume cutting. He throws me a sweet and innocent smile that mirrors not only the one on the Prance's face, but Lou's as well.  
  
As I raise my finger and start to say, "I think . . . ," I hear Yes Dear's voice echoing inside my head in a little repeat of the conversation we had before he left for work this morning:  
  
[ Promise me you won't hang over their shoulders.  
  
I promise.  
  
Promise me you won't micromanage.  
  
Alright! I promise! ]  
  
"Nevermind," I mouth, turning to head back to the computer room before I do something I might regret later.  
  
About ten minutes later I hear the Sawsall stop running. Thirty seconds after that, the Prance is standing at the computer room door again. This time he's sopping wet.  
  
"Joe waentz tu noe whur da wader kuet-oeff vaelve iz."  
  
"Water cut-off valve?"  
  
"Yaes."  
  
"It's outside at the meter near the road. Why does Joe need to know wh. . . . ?" That's when the rushing sound of a cascading waterfall reaches my attention.  
  
"Legolas?"  
  
He pauses in his efforts to wring the water out of his braided hair. "Yaes?"  
  
"Why is the water running in the kitchen?"  
  
"Oeh, al! U shuld coem sea da perty foewntin dat we hav en da keetchin! Da wader iz maekin spaerkulz like diamundz en da lite en dere!"  
  
I'm almost elf-like in my speed and grace as I fly out of the chair and into the kitchen. Springing from a hole in the waterpipe that supplies the kitchen sink, I find the most lovely spray of crystal clear water shooting from the floor all the way to the ceiling, all over my brand new upper cabinets, all over the new light fixture, and all over the brand new range hood. The paint is drip, drip, dripping off the ceiling above all over the exposed plywood floor below.  
  
"Doen't u jest lub it?" he whispers, totally in awe as he stands there beside me with his hands clasped together, pressed against his chest.  
  
I can't do anything but stare.  
  
"It duz maek u speachluss," he breathes.  
  
I must be standing with my mouth hanging open, for the Prance reaches out his hand and gently nudges me under the chin and says, "Jest noed ur haed uep an doewn whin I sae it'z jest purfickt." He gives my head a little lift up to get me started.  
  
About ten seconds later the fountain dies down to a spray and then to a trickle before sputtering to a stop. The back door opens and a soggy Joe steps in.  
  
"It'll dry just fine. I promise," he apologizes.  
  
I stop to consider my possible reactions at this stage.  
  
(a) Nuclear fission. Blow a gasket, drop the bomb, have a cow, whatever you want to call it.  
  
(b) Sit in the corner blubbering my lip and rocking back and forth until they strap me into a white jacket and haul me away.  
  
(c) Sink to the floor wailing, moaning, and tearing my clothes asunder.  
  
(d) Stare vacantly at a spot on the ceiling and pretend to be totally comatose, a sudden and complete victim of Alzheimer's disease.  
  
The safest one seems to be (e) Continue to play deaf and dumb and pretend that by the end of the day everything will be better than it was before.  
  
I put on my happiest, most sincere smile and with as much enthusiasm as I can muster, say, "You do ceilings too, right?"  
  
"Yeah," Joe answers with a smile, glad to see I didn't pick (a) through (d) above.  
  
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The guys go back to scooping up soggy particleboard. In about a half hour, the noise emanating from my kitchen has died down to nothing. I hear the truck crank up, but before I can close out my computer program, they have pulled out of the driveway and headed up the hill outside.  
  
Wandering through the protective plastic sheeting, I find to my surprise that my destruction-construction crew of three have pulled up the entire floor. I mean THE ENTIRE FLOOR. There's nothing left of my kitchen except the two-by-twelve joists running parallel to each other every foot or so from the back door to the den carpet. You can see dirt between them four feet below.  
  
"Legolas?" I call.  
  
"Yaes?" answers a voice from the deck.  
  
"Where did Lou and Joe go?"  
  
"Tiem fur luench!" he announces. "Dey weant tu Buergur Keeng."  
  
The Prance and I settle for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with sour cream and onion potato chips. I have the grape jelly and Elfboy spreads on the strawberry jam.  
  
"Don't you think that's enough?" I ask, watching the jam slide out of his bread and plop thickly to the paper plate in front of him. It's actually leaking through the bottom of his sandwich in places. It would be an apt name to list it on the menu as "Strawberry Sandwich with Bread and Peanut Butter."  
  
"U kin neber hav enuf straewburry jaem," he mumbles through a mouthful of the sticky stuff.  
  
Indeed.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
An hour later, Joe and Lou are back in action, measuring and sawing and measuring again. Joe goes over to the big trailer where he keeps his supplies and pulls out a gas-powered air compressor, hooking it up to something that looks rather like an overpowered stapler. As Joe steps back over to the trailer, I see Legolas reach over and pick the object up.  
  
"NO! NO!" shouts Lou.  
  
Joe makes a quick about-face and rescues the thing from Elfboy's arms. He laughs nervously. "Not this one, buddy. This one's a bit more dangerous than those other tools you've been using."  
  
A bit more dangerous? He's already sawed through a water pipe and almost jolted himself with 120 volts of electricity, not to mention how close the blade of the circular saw came to his pretty face only a few days before.  
  
"Whut'z dat?" Legolas asks, staring awestruck at the big-man's toy.  
  
"This, my friend," says Joe, "is a pneumatic nailgun."  
  
"Dey coem en newmaetikz?" he asks, astonished. He turns to me. "I'm gittin won."  
  
"I don't think so," I scoff. "You're still not too old for your wants to hurt you."  
  
Elfboy pouts.  
  
By six o'clock, they're finishing up. My kitchen now has upper cabinets AND a new plywood floor. Don't look up at the watermark on the ceiling, okay?  
  
"Thanks, Joe," says Yes Dear, cutting the check and handing it over. "The place looks great."  
  
"I'll be back Monday morning to pick up the debris with my other trailer," Joe says. "Bye, Legolas! Thanks for the help!"  
  
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First thing on Friday morning, Yes Dear's at the hardware store purchasing electrical wire and plumbing supplies. He's decided to rewire and replumb both whole sections rather than leave patches at floor level. Since the thing that got us into this mess in the first place involved a leak in the plumbing somewhere near the same area, I'm all in favor of putting off having a functioning sink for another day or two to avoid having to do all of this over again.  
  
It takes six hours on Saturday for him to pull the old out and put in the new. The electricity is easy to check . . . just plug in the refrigerator and watch the little light inside glow. The water is another whole story.  
  
But then you guessed I'd say that, didn't you?  
  
He has to turn off the water and cut a hole in the drywall to replace the pipe. We have to go for several hours without being able to wash our hands, ride the washing machine, or flush the toilet. Guess who has the hardest time with that?  
  
When it comes time to test the pipe for leaks, Yes Dear sends Lil' Pip and Legolas to keep an eye on the pipe in the kitchen while he takes me underneath the house so he can show me the new cut-off valve he's put in. We're standing directly underneath them, so we can hear every word they're saying.  
  
"I doent sea enithaeng," says the Prance.  
  
"Don't put your head so close," fusses Lil' Pip. "I can't see through your thick skull."  
  
"Buet nuthin'z haeppinen eniwae," whines the Prance. Then comes the sound of flesh smacking flesh.  
  
"OOEEWW!"  
  
"Daddy said don't touch anything!"  
  
"I deen't tuch it! I wuz jest raestin my haend dere."  
  
"Well, don't do that. You might turn it on by accident or something."  
  
They quiet down for a few seconds, so Yes Dear figures it's a good time to give instructions once again while they can hear him.  
  
"Just watch for leaks, and holler if you see any," he calls up to them.  
  
"Okay, Dad!" yells Lil' Pip.  
  
"Okae!" screams Legolas.  
  
We could have heard them both if we were on Mars.  
  
"Move your dumb head! I can't see!" shouts Lil' Pip.  
  
Shaking his head, Yes Dear reaches over and turns the faucet handle on.  
  
There's the squeak of water filling the new pipe, then nothing. Suddenly there's a loud pop, followed by a bloodcurdling shriek and the rush of cascading water.  
  
Yes Dear quickly turns the valve to stop the flow. We both crawl out from underneath the house at top speed and run to see what damage has been done this time.  
  
When we open the kitchen door, there stands Lil' Pip, drenched in water. Her glasses are askew on her face, and they're covered in water drops. Legolas is lying on the den carpet clutching his belly and convulsing.  
  
"This is ALL HIS FAULT!" screeches Lil' Pip.  
  
Apparently Yes Dear was so tired from the day's activities that he remembered to glue all but the last bend of PVC pipe. The very bend that makes the turn up from the bottom of the house to inside through the wall. The very bend that Lil' Pip apparently had her eye on, watching carefully from only a few inches away. The very bend that Legolas is now holding in his left hand while he holds his jiggling, giggling belly with his right as he writhes on the den floor, laughing at his sopping wet, bossy, substitute little sister.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Okay, so it takes two whole weeks before Yes Dear calls and reminds Joe about the debris pile so he will come to get the moldy stinking mess from under my laundry line, but who's counting? Everybody's busy trying to get their home repairs and improvements done before the Thanksgiving holiday. We've been busy ourselves putting in the new bottom cabinets and installing the stove. The man from Valinor is coming on Tuesday to put in the almost- Elbereth-kissed countertop, and the crew from the flooring store is supposed to be here on Wednesday to install the new linoleum.  
  
That gives me just enough time to stuff everything I've stashed all over my house back into the new cabinets before my mother to get here for a combination late Thanksgiving, late Lil' Pip's birthday, and the big Hanging of the Greens ceremony at church on Sunday.  
  
Tuesday morning, I get a call from Tommy the countertop man. He's going to be a little late, seems he's got to ride into Greenwood to pick up (you fill in the blank).  
  
Fortunately, Tommy comes highly recommended by my friend Terry, who had him install a countertop in her kitchen some time ago. Terry says she even paid him extra as a tip because he was so good. Now Terry is an astute shop-a- holic, and never has one been born as cunning as she. Terry can spot a sale from a mall-length away, and she can quote prices and advertised specials for not only every store here at home, but in Greenwood as well. She's a real pro, and if she paid him extra, you can bet he earned every single penny.  
  
Tommy walks in the door with a contract in hand. In it, I am required to provide for him and his crew bathroom facilities and water supply for drinking as well as washing up. It stipulates exactly how much I have paid for every little sawdust particle floating in my air, and before he even starts, he has his assistant sweeping off my carport. Note that was HIS assistant, not mine.  
  
"Kin I hep?" asks Prance Helpful, hanging a half-inch off Tommy's left elbow.  
  
"My insurance doesn't cover you," Tommy says, stepping to the right to recover his personal space.  
  
Legolas turns on the pathetic lost puppy-dog face. "Kin I jest wach den? I proemiss noet tu git en da wae."  
  
"I'm sorry," says the countertop man firmly. "You'll have to stay in the den. You can watch from there."  
  
"Come on, Legolas," I call from the doorway. "Let's go back in."  
  
"Buet dat's soe faer awae!" whines the Prance. Nevermind that it's only a cabinet's breadth from the den to the kitchen, and he's an immortal who can tell a hawk from a hunting eagle a mountaintop away, and deliver a deadly arrow precisely to a shadow's vital point in the dead darkness of night. Sometimes even three feet is entirely more than an elf can take.  
  
I turn on the television and pop in the tape I made of "Wheel of Fortune" yesterday. I've been hoping against hope that somehow his spelling will improve while he's guessing the letters and trying to figure out the word puzzles, but so far he's spent more time imitating Vanna White's walk and commenting on whatever wardrobe faux pas he thinks she's committed most recently than he does concentrating on solving the problems. Soon he's parked himself three feet from the screen in the middle of the den carpet and has forgotten all about the sawing going on outside the back door.  
  
"Dat kulur duzn't luuk guud oen her. I likd da grean won she woar yaesturdae bedder," he grumbles. "Whie duz she leat doze peepul peek owt her draessiz fur her? She noez whut she'z duein, she noez whut luuks guud."  
  
If Legolas was helping Vanna with her wardrobe, she'd wear green everyday. Maybe the occasional blue, or even a silver sequined number so she'd sparkle like the stars. He's really mesmerized by Vanna. A part of me wonders if it's actually Vanna he wants, or if he'd be just as happy owning everything in her closet.  
  
I manage to keep Prance Helpful occupied, and in less than half the time I expected it would take, Tommy's finished the kitchen and is ready to go. He talks to me about how to care for the countertop, how to clean it and how to polish it, and he makes sure I know not to cut anything on it without using a cutting board. He even gives me a printed handout listing all the approved over-the-counter brands of cleaners I should use.  
  
Legolas spends the rest of the evening stroking it. Yes Dear spends his evening putting in the new sink and hooking up the water. Lil' Pip spends her evening begging for a new smoothie maker for her birthday to put in her favored location.  
  
I spend my evening being thankful for blessings I often forget I even have.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The next morning we're up bright and early, ready for the new linoleum. As I'm straightening up the morning's chaos and Legolas is playing in the water instead of washing the breakfast dishes, I get a phone call. You guessed it. The linoleum man is going to be a little late.  
  
"I'm sending out a guy who'll give you a quote on the price once he sees the site," says the guy who's supposed to already be here. "He'll be bringing the supplies you paid for with him."  
  
"Wait a minute, I thought you were coming? And I already have a price!" I say, not sure if I like last minute subcontracting.  
  
"Whut'z da maettur?" says the Prance, his curiosity piqued at my raised voice. He's dripping soap suds from his elbows onto the den carpet, so I shoo him back to the sink.  
  
"What time is he supposed to be here?"  
  
"He's already left. He's real reasonable. He'll give you a good price."  
  
Two hours later, I call back to the floorcovering store and ask to speak to my salesman. He assures me he knows the installer who's coming, that he's already been to the warehouse and picked up my new linoleum, and says he should be arriving any minute now.  
  
Legolas heads to the bay window up front to keep a watch. Half an hour later, I find him curled up there on the ledge in the sun, nestled between the four cats. His eyes are open and trained on the road, but there's nobody home. Anor has claimed its fifth victim of the day.  
  
Two hours after that, I'm back on the phone to the salesman. "He's not here yet," I complain. "I only live forty-five minutes from the store. Can you check on him, please?" I have visions of my new kitchen floor lying in the back of a van at the bottom of a ravine somewhere between here and there.  
  
The phone rings back less than a minute after I sit it back down on the coffee table. It's the linoleum man. He's on the way.  
  
I breathe a sigh of relief, glancing at the clock as he asks me for directions to the house.  
  
"Where are you coming from?" I ask.  
  
The town he's currently in is forty-five minutes from me, alright. That's forty-five minutes in THE OTHER DIRECTION from where he supposedly started out four hours ago.  
  
"Why are you there and not here? That's not even on the way!" I fuss, concerned now that he's going to charge me a distance fee on the transportation.  
  
"I left my tools in the van. I'm using the pickup truck today," he says.  
  
"Let me get this straight," I say. "My brand new linoleum has been riding around in the back of your pickup truck for four hours now?"  
  
"Yes, Ma'am," he says. "It's nice weather out."  
  
I wonder if he's going to charge me for a sightseeing tour too?  
  
"How long will it take you to get here?"  
  
"Well, I'll stop for lunch on the way, so I figure I should be there in another couple of hours or so."  
  
"You mean to tell me you're not going to get here for another two hours?" Now he's not going to arrive until I'm already supposed to be at work. Matter of fact, I'm technically late now, with as much work as I usually have to do the day before we close for a holiday. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and most people would be expecting the relatives to start showing up on the doorstep by then. The stores will all be closing before he can get here to survey the job to see if he's got all he needs, and they'll be closed for at least one more day tomorrow if he doesn't finish it tonight.  
  
"Yes, ma'am. I don't mind working for as long as it takes."  
  
"Well, I can't wait that long. We'll have to reschedule."  
  
The next day he can come isn't until Dec 11th. Fifteen days from now, and only six days before Legolas is leaving.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Lub Ledderz frum Legolas  
  
ariarwen: al deed fiex me uep guud. She tuuk me tu sea Joyce at da Beeutie Paerlur, an noew u kin't eben tael whut haeppind tu my hare! I lub tu goe sea Joyce. She haz meeny enturaesteeng theengz en her shoep. Deed u sea me treep whin I wuz ruenning akros da hilltoep aftur da Uruks dat haed taekin Merry an Pippin en TTT? Dat wuz jest my wae of sayen tu al dat I wuz okae. Goe bak an luuk fur it. It'z rite beafoar Araporn akz me whut due my eyez sea. *huegz u*  
  
Jastaelf: GAH! You had to go and say that while he had a plate full of Strawberry Sandwich with Bread and Peanut Butter, didn't you??! Now look at this mess! *wipes Prance clean while he tries to pull himself back together* *snatches paper plate as he takes Dive #2* I'm still working on the pic you requested about the washing machine ride. I'll add the Carpenter's Apprentice to your request list. One day. . . . Hey! Trade you a pic for a new chapter of Dark Leaf! Hmmm??? *draegz sef entu chare* Hae! She'z noet my muthur. She'z my ruummaet! *gitz ober da hueffie staege an doez Ada's relakzashun eggsesieziz* I waent Ada tu noe I wuz a tuff worrier an deed noet krie, noe madder whut Leedle Peep sez. *foeldz haendz ober chaest an glaerz at Leedle Peep* *glansiz doewn at haendz an seaz da gloeb of jaem en my hare* Oeh, noew luuk whut u'v dun! *rueshiz oeff tu da bafruum tu fiex dis turribel maess u hav maed en my hare*  
  
Max Jive: Oh, God. I don't even want to THINK of having a pirate-wanna-be living in my closet. Or my spare bedroom, for that matter. Just imagine all the trouble he could get in. . . .*shudders* U doen't like my Caerpinturz luuk? *tuernz arond tu giv u a chaense fur it tu groew oen u* Whut'z roeng wid my Caerpinturz luuk? Eberybuddie ealse theenkz it'z saexy. . . .  
  
Lady Peredhel: If dey doen't groew bak rite, Joyce at da Beeutie Paerlur kin fiex dat! I hoep u ar steel en lub whin u git dis maessege. Lub iz a vary wundurful thaeng. *seandz u a kees an a fiev pownd baeg of suegur tu uze oen dat goerjus hueman guey*  
  
Newmoon: I furgiv u, buet u bedder noet due it agin! I STEEL LUB U TUU! al sez dat maeybee won daey she weel git bizy an draew a pikshur of me az a Caerpintur. She'z waetin oen Jasta, u sea. *seandz u a beeg skweeaze*  
  
daw the minstrel: al'z noet teezin! I reely deed cuet my hare wid da saewblaed! She's not talking about that, nin caun. She's discussing another matter entirely. *luukz toetully loest* She's talking about how nice you looked in your Carpenter's Apprentice outfit, baby. *greenz gleafuelly* Oeh, dat! *blueshiz*  
  
Chan: I hav Caerpintur'z Braydz noew, Chan! Sea? *tuernz soe u kin sea* I lub wurkin wid tuulz. I lernd tu wurk oen kaerz wile I wuz hear tuu. I jest dunnoe if I weel bea abul tu tuern all dis enfoermashun entu enithaeng proeduktiv whin I git bak hoem or noet. *healpz u bak uep an gievz u a beeg hueg wile u puell ursef tugethur*  
  
caranwen: Ur goenna maek me krie if u keap dis uep! Noe moer saed ledderz, okae? Tho I deed theenk it wuz vary beeuteeful. I wuld lub it if u keap riting me, buet doen't bea soe saed, okae? *huegz u*  
  
Raider-K: It wuz a naestee saew uenteel Yaes Deer goet all da hare ouwta it. I oenlee deed dat thaeng wid my boexurz dat won tiem. U hav da meamoeree of da dwaervz, hannon le vary muech. An I oenlee deed it den beakuz al deedn't tael me hoew tu due it rite, an dey wear soe pertie! Jest like u *greanz an smuuchiz u*  
  
Writer From Rivendell: *gievz u a grate beeg hueg* I em noet reatuerneeng dis tiem. Dere iz jest noe wae fur dat tu haeppin. *haendz u a neadulnoez plyer an a teany leedle skruwdrievur* Hear, trie dis. . . .  
  
Nilmandra: Dis duemb theeng seamz tu due dat aloet. al haz ur stoerriez oen her liest of theengz tu reed tu hep her wonse I em goen. She theenkz ur stoerriez weel maek her feal bedder, an I due tu. U woen't git en da elfleeng wae if I jest kees u, rite?? *pukurz uep*  
  
Grammar Laedee: Buet I LUB da Tucheeng Me Gaem! I waent tu teech it tu Gimli. He alreedy soert of noez hoew tu plae. He'z alwaez rayzeeng heez voywse an kumplayneeng abot sumpthaeng lowd enuf fur eberybuddie tu here heem. I theenk al wuld giv me da wite keetie. Noet Preensis Elizabef, buet dat othur wite won dat cheuwd thru da neuw wader liem uendur da seenk wile Yeas Deer wuz uender dere enstaelleeng it. *seandz u sum elbin lub*  
  
Holly :o) : U muest hav reely loeng hare den! Due u uze Paenteen? I lub Paenteen! *shaekz loeng bloend lokz en an ematashun of da Paenteen gurl oen tee vea* I'll bea wachin fur u! *snuegglz u*  
  
Landos Star: Buet it wuz my HARE!!! MY HARE!! *wheempurz* I deedn't krie, tho. I wuz a vary braeve worrier. I proemis tu e-male u sum pikshurz of my elfleengz, buet u weel hav tu wate unteel e-male iz envintid en Meedle-erth furst. Dat culd bea a vary loeng tiem indeead. Oeh, an bie da wae, al sez it'z her JOEB noet tu leat me get nekkie. *geegglz an proseedz tu maek al ern her paecheak*  
  
SarWolf Snape: I weant tu sea Joyce at da Beeutee Paerlur, an she feexed me rite uep! Due u like it? *doez da Paenteen gurl thaeng frum da tee vea agin, den gievz u a beeg hueg*  
  
Space-Case 7029: al iz haerd tu teeze. U goetta wach dat Yaes Deer duzn't fiend ouwt abot it. He mite huert me. al sez tu tael u dat she deedn't haev eni saenatee tu beagin wid, soe u doen't haev tu wurry abot her. *Kueddlz u uep en my aermz*  
  
The Karenator: *hepz u puet ur feat uep, ruebz ur toez* Duz dat maek it all bedder? I hoep u ar fealin stroengur eberydae. U shuld sea all da thaengz I kin due wid a haemmur dat al DEEDN'T tael u abot! Gimli iz shur goenna bea suerprized! *gievz u a kaerful skweeaze an a beeg kees*  
  
The Two Princesses: Buet I like theengz dat maek lowd annoeyeeng noiwze! Dere's POEWUER en dat sownd! If Sauron haed maed heez Reeng a leedle lowdur, Bilbo wuld hav neber goet it en da furst plaese! Muthurz ar sueppozed tu bea embareassing. Dat'z hoew dey git ober all doze nitez dat dey muest stae awaek razing cheeldrin. I hav a kwestshun fur u. . . whut ez ur faevurit kulur? *seandz u sum XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXOXO's*  
  
Fadesintothewest: I hoep u ar steel dueing bedder. If dey eber maek a moovie abot Bilbo, maebee I weel bea abul tu coem bak. Unteel den, I muest reatuern tu Meedle-erth. Araporn weel need a skeeld worrier like me. U neber noe whin a guud skruwdrievur weel coem en haendee. *huegglz u*  
  
Lady Silence: MMmm. . . . Peaz. *foergievz u eenstuntlee, thin priez u oeff wunse I kin't breeth enimoer frum ur gloem* Mmmm. . . .noew I thaenk I've haed tuu muech suegur tuu. Iz dis faest enuf fur u wid da chaeptur poesteeng?  
  
Michelle6: Deed u git all moevd en? I hoep soe. Giev Matt a kees fur me tuu. *gievz u tuu keesiz soe u weel hav eggstra*  
  
SperryDee: Mebbe won dae al weel draew a pikshur of me en my Caerpintur'z Appreantise ouwtfeet.*Heetchiz uep jeenz ober "Maerrie Chreestmis" boexurz agin* Owr katz due dat tu. Yaes Deer wierz da trea tu da waell en thraee plaesiz. Dat hepz. *seandz u sum elbin lub, baybee*  
  
Dunrosiel: U nead a vakashun. Mebbe Chreestmus iz coemin tuu laet fur u. Haeng en dere, a brake iz coemin, I noe. I'll aesk Saentu Klauwz whin I sea heem tu seand u dat fur Chreestmus. *Huegz u kaerfuelly en kaes it'z cuntageeus*  
  
VladimirsAngel: *strykez a poze fur u* Iz dis guud? Hoew abot dis won? *duz anuthr* It'z da Paenteen cundishuner dat maekz ur hare shyne like dis. I'm steel feegureng ouwt hoew tu git sum of dat bak tu Meedle-erth. *huegz an keesiz tu u*  
  
Tricia: Hannon le fur ur greef fur my hare loess. It wuz kwite paynful, buet noe maettur whut Leedle Peep sez I DEED NOET KRIE! *daerz Leedle Peep tu sae enithaeng* *skweeazez u*  
  
elf from Rivendell: Mae Govannen! Hearz anuthr kees, sinse u liked dat won soe waell. *bloewz u a beeg sloeepie waet won* Sae hae tu eberybuddie fur me. Namarie!  
  
anna: *blueshiz* Ur eambareassing me! Eben my eerz ar raed! *kovurz eerz wid my haendz* Yaes, dat al iz smaert az puempkin pie, she jest maerched me doewn tu Joyce at da Beeutee Paerlur an goet me all feexd uep! *gievz u a snueggul*  
  
leail: Dat chaeptur wuz abot caebinetz an leenoleeum an . . . wate a minit! Dat'z noet whut u mint, iz it?? Kloze ur eyez, Cara7 an Andy8 *groewlz an gievz u da burfdae kees u reely deasurve*  
  
Katani Petitedra: I doen't theenk u hav enithaeng moer tu woerrie abot. Dose lineeur ekwashunz doen't hoeld a kaendul tu u. U luuk nise like dat, bie da wae. . . . *geeglz*  
  
Arienna DyBane: *wied oepin eyez fur ur kees an hueg suerprizd me!* I gess whin u've bean duein ur oewn hare fur aelmoest threa thowsend yeerz, u goetta git guud at it sumtiem. Giv ursef a feuw moer yeerz, nin mellon. *huegz u bak*  
  
Miss Aranel: Yaes Deer sumtiemz caellz me "Tim" beakuz of dat "Home Improvement" shoew. He duzn't luuk enithaeng like Al on dere, jest like I doen't luuk enithaeng like Tim. It haez bean kwite an aedvenshur. U noe, if peepul wuld jest waesh dere haendz az muech az elves due, dey wuldn't git sieck neer az oeftin. *huegz u titely*  
  
PuterPatty: Dat al iz suech a shieneeng staer, izn't she?? *pawzes wile eberybuddie noedz dere haedz* al waentz tu noe if u wear taelkin abot my hare whin u meanshund emagineeng theengz dat aern't reely haepenning. I thot u likd my tite jeenz? al sez she remimburz doze kiend of thaengz spasificully tu tael jest fur u. *u taest like da cheasekaek u haed fur luench at dat plase u like tu eet at, deed u noe dat meleth?*  
  
Leedle Peep: I herd whut haeppind en da gurlz kaebin. I theenk I wuld hav prefurrd da boeyz. Eggspashully wid "Da Waerdin" patroelling da haellz all nite. Reemiendz me of Maestur Tanglinna bak hoem en Mirkwood. Dear Darling Daughter, I love to talk to you in the reviews. Now get off the computer and go clean your room. *geegulz* Hush, elfboy, you're not making things any better. Get off your duff and go help her. You made the mess with the Barbie's while she was gone anyway. *suelkz off powteeng*  
  
Lord Elrond's Baliff: Soe glaed tu sea u! al sez thaenk u fur da beast weeshiz, an I thaenk u fur keapin doze skaerrie faengurlz awae. I nead ALL my hare, u noe? I wuz jest wundureeng abot da suppeena. . . deed u furgit tu breeng won fur al? Aftur all, she meatz 18 of da 19 kritearia fur beeing a Maerrie Suew. She shuld git sum tipe of awaerd, doen't u agrea? *biedz u faerweal uentil nekzt tiem*  
  
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That's it for today. Keep checking daily! Send those lub ledders quick, cause soon there won't be any more time! 


	21. The Calm Before The Storm

A/N: A while back, there were some questions that need answering from Deb. Legolas finally sat down and wrote his answers, and I thought they might be of interest to the rest of you. With her permission, here are her questions and his responses.  
  
Deb: I finished FOTR finally!! I do have a couple of questions for The Prance... First of all, if you're a prince...how come no one really gives you the royal respect you deserve? No one ever calls you prince, and in fact...I feel they sort of keep you in the sidelines in that book. (I'm hoping we'll see lots more of you in the next one). I was also curious what you were up to when you all were in Lothlorien and you left the fellowship for a couple of nights. Was there some good looking she-elf you had to go and make time with? Or was this official business? Also, I'm a little unclear on this immortality thing. Do you have to give that up when you fall in love with a mortal? Or is that more of a symbolic gesture in that one day you'd have to face the mortality of the one you love? (I'm a little worried about Arwen and Aragorn really.) Tell me what happens when an elf and a human mate? Will the offspring be one or the other? Or a cohesive mix of the two? I know that's a lot of questions...but I just have to know!   
  
And Legolas answers her with: Wael, furst of all, I dunnoe whie noebuddie treetz me like roayaltee. Mebbe if I woar my grean Feastavil roabe ensted of my tunik an leagginz (dere NOET TIETZ!) moer peepul wuld treet me wid reaspekt. I wuz bizzy trien tu keap Araporn an Boreamir frum keelin eech uthur fur da furst paert of da jerney, noet tu menshun dat Araporn tuk furever tu git ober dat leedle theeng I sed at da Cownsil meating, An Gandalf goet doze hoebitz smoekin dat piepwead, an we all noe whut haeppinz whin DAT haeppinz, an dere I wuz bizzy agin.  
  
Soe u sea, whin we goet tu Lothlorien, I neaded a brake, u noe?  
  
Noew, abot dis immoraleety thaeng. . . .  
  
AHEM!  
  
Whut?  
  
You didn't answer the question.  
  
Yaes I deed.  
  
No, you didn't.  
  
*glaerz*  
  
Az I wuz saeing. . .  
  
Oen dat immoraleety theeng. . . Elves mae choez tu faell en lub wid moertalz, buet tu due soe wuld meen u muest deaside tu dwaell en Valinor foerevur, liveeng widowt ennithaeng tu woerrie abot buet alowne, oer deasideeng tu give dat up an beacoem moertal buet liveeng wid ur truew lub foer a limated tiem.  
  
Plues, Arwen noez dat if she duzn't peck Araporn, he noez my nuembur. . . .*weenkz*  
  
Soe, bea uenhaeppie furever, oer bea haeppie fur a moertal life? Hummmm. . . .  
  
Az fur ur naekzt kwestshun, I em noe eggspurt, buet I theenk id is muech like whin tuu huemanz maet. Goe aesk ur muther.  
  
Da oefspreeng of a unyun of an elf an a hueman due noet haev tu bea moertal. Dey ar kaeld peredhil, an like Elrond, dey mae choez tu bea moertal or immoral. Elrond'z paerintz an heez tween bruthr all choez tu becoem moertal. Elrond choez immoralitee. Den he maerried an elf, soe it seamz tu hav wurked owt eniwae.  
  
Legolas?  
  
Yaes?  
  
The part about Lothlorien? I'm still curious about what happened.  
  
I ansurd dat.  
  
No, you didn't.  
  
Yaes I did.  
  
Did not.  
  
Deed tu. Noe huerrie an tipe ur paert up, wuld u? Tiem iz waestin.  
  
But Legolas?  
  
Yaes?  
  
You're immortal. What difference does time make?  
  
*groewlz an pokez al* Jest huerrie uep, okae?  
  
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Chapter 21 The Calm Before The Storm  
  
Lil' Pip gets her smoothie maker for her birthday. She also gets a pizza and bowling party with four of her closest friends. We start out at Pizza Hut with Legolas intermittently pouring the Pepsi and delving through the big black trash bag, looking to make sure none of the pretty bows from the packages get tossed out with the wrapping paper. He also enjoys helping the girls look through their goodie bags to find the fake-hair punk-rocker wraps to go around their ponytails. After he finishes fixing them all up, I wish I had bought one each for Yes Dear, Legolas, and myself. They looked absolutely lovely.  
  
We pile into the van and head for the bowling alley, where the man behind the counter spots our Prance right off the bat and digs out the Magical Mystical Absolutely Disgustingly Horrible Houndstooth Check Bowling Shoes.  
  
"U reemimburd me!" exclaims the Prance, flattered.  
  
"Sweetheart, you're the only one I think would ever be able to pull off wearing a pair of shoes like those," the man answers, shaking his head.  
  
"Thaenk u soe muech!" says the Prance, batting his eyelashes and gathering his shoes in one hand before sashaying off to look for his special hot pink bowling ball.  
  
Everyone has a fabulous day, and everyone breaks a hundred, even the ones who claim they've never bowled before. I think there's been some Magical Shoe Rubbing going on while they're waiting for turns, sitting there innocently sipping on Icee frozen sodas.  
  
Hmmm. I think maybe I ought to ask for those shoes in the future.  
  
We end the day with a trip to Baskin-Robbins Ice Cream, home of the 31 flavors. Everybody gets to pick one scoop, because it's almost time for supper. By the time they've each eaten about half the single scoop, the sugar has hit in full force, and I'm suddenly thankful we didn't start the party with the ice cream.  
  
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Ahhh. . . .Thanksgiving.  
  
We eat at Ryan's Family Steakhouse, since the kitchen's still not totally functional. They've got a bigger spread than we could ever fix anyway: turkey and dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, ham, green beans, corn, carrots, fried okra, cranberry sauce, and macaroni and cheese. Legolas polishes off most of the entire pan of sweet potato casserole topped with marshmallows, which I discover later is highly processable as sugar through an elf's system. Within an hour he's literally bouncing off the walls. He finally crashes on the couch, halfway through the first disc of "The Two Towers Special Extended Edition", right about the time Treebeard puts Merry and Pippin out too.  
  
I toss a blanket over him, leaving him to dream sweet elven dreams with Princess Elizabeth nestled between his thighs and Haldir, the deaf white kitten, cuddled in the crook of his left arm.  
  
Friday dawns bright and early. Yes Dear's up at the crack of dawn, ready for the traditional harvest of the Christmas tree.  
  
Okay, so the bright part wasn't right. That's the bedroom light overhead shining in my eyes. When I finally struggle out from under the electric blanket to peek outside, the day is dreary and cloudy and the wind is whipping the branches of the oak outside.  
  
This year Legolas is already dressed. I find him standing at the backdoor, his Cocoa Puffs contained in a gallon-size Ziplock baggie, clutched in his hand.  
  
"Moernin!" he mumbles through a mouthful of cereal. "Kin I goe git en da kaer?"  
  
I give him the same looking over I would give Lil' Pip. "Have you got a T- shirt on under your sweatshirt?"  
  
"Yaes," he says, tucking the cereal baggie between his chin and chest and using both hands to lift the hem of the sweatshirt to show me. "An I goet da Chreestmus uendurpaentz oen tu, waenna sea?" His fingers dart down to pop the top button on his jeans.  
  
"No, no, Prance, that's okay," I interrupt, reaching to grasp his arm before he goes any further. "I trust you. Run and use the bathroom one more time and you can get in the car, alright?"  
  
"Okae!" he shouts, off in a flash.  
  
Yes Dear's doing his own imitation of the Prance.  
  
"Nine o'clock," he says, tapping his watch. "The weather's supposed to worsen early this afternoon, so we need to go early."  
  
At five until 9, he's in the bathroom stemming the blood flow from the hole where Lil' Pip's last tooth has just come out. At five after, he's reading the newspaper for the tenth time while I braid Lil' Pip's hair.  
  
At twenty-five past, the blond bombshell comes bursting back through the door.  
  
"Ar we goen oer noet?"  
  
"Okay! Okay! We're coming!" I exclaim, dragging Lil' Pip out the door.  
  
At 9:30 am, we're all in the car heading into town. There's a light mist falling, and the wind is gusting against the car in big pushes of strength and sound. By the time we pass the library, Yes Dear turns to me and asks, "Where are the raincoats and umbrellas?"  
  
"There should be two of each in the back of the van," I answer.  
  
"Noe dere'z noet," chimes in Prance Helpful from the backseat. "I tuuk dem ouwt whin u weant tu git da neuw kabineatz."  
  
Yes Dear sighs and turns the van around.  
  
At ten o'clock, we're rolling through town for the second time. We manage to make it twenty miles north-west before a little voice in the back seat says, "I'm hungry."  
  
"Didn't you eat any breakfast?" I ask.  
  
"No, I didn't have a chance!" whines Lil' Pip.  
  
"Legolas, be a dear and give Lil' Pip some of your cereal, please, "I plead.  
  
"I kin't. It'z all goen," he answers, holding up the empty gallon-sized baggie. There's absolutely nothing left but a dusting of cocoa flavored sugar lining the plastic. He's eaten the equivalent of a whole box of sugar flavored pebbles all by himself in less than an hour. Oh yeah, baby (c al).  
  
Yes Dear finds a gas station in the next town we pass and stops so everyone can get a bite to eat. Ten dollars later, we get back in the car with a bag of peanut butter M & M's, a plastic container of mini chocolate M & M's, two Chunky's, a dark chocolate Dove bar, a pack of peanut butter crackers, a Coke, an Orange Strawberry and Banana Burst Tropical Twister, and a Minute Maid Lemonade. Oh, and don't forget the Stuckey's Pecan Log Roll.  
  
"Where'd you get that?" I exclaim, drooling as I watch the Prance sink his sparkling white incisors through the pecans and into the sweet marshmallow filling. My dad used to always stop at Stuckey's restaurants when we drove to Minnesota or North Carolina to visit the relatives, and the best thing (besides finally getting to go to the bathroom) was the Stuckey's Pecan Log Roll that he would buy for each of us as we got back in the car.  
  
"Dey wear rite dere by da cash raegistur," mutters Prance through the mouthful of goo.  
  
"I don't think I paid for that," whispers Yes Dear.  
  
"Legolas? Honey, did you pay the lady at the cash register for that?"  
  
"Oef Koerse!"  
  
Hmmm.  
  
"Uhm. . . Legolas? Where did you get the money?" I ask.  
  
"Oeh, it deedn't koest eni muney."  
  
Uh-oh. Not good.  
  
"What did you do?" growls Yes Dear.  
  
"Nuthin!" insists the Prance in his defensive whiny voice. After a long pause, he continues, "I gave her a kees. Dat's all she sed dey koest. U shuld hav goet won tuu!"  
  
Now he's pouting.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
We stop at the beginning of the road that winds up the mountain to switch seats. No lunch beforehand this time, and certainly no elven Princes with motion sickness in the backseat.  
  
Prance Legolas starts the winding trip by producing the first Christmas carol of the day.  
  
"Da bare weant ober da mowntan, da bare weant . . . ."  
  
"That's not a Christmas carol!" complains Lil' Pip from her spot in the backseat.  
  
The Prance rolls his eyes and interrupts his song with, "Yaes it iz."  
  
"No it's not."  
  
"Yaes, it iz."  
  
"Is not!"  
  
"Iz tuu!"  
  
"Knock it off," says Yes Dear. "Finish that one and then sing regular Christmas carols, please, Leggy."  
  
"Okae."  
  
"Da bare weant ober da mowntan, Da bare weant ober da mowntan, Da bare weant ober da mowntan, Tu git a Chreestmus trea!"  
  
"Sea?" he says, twisting in his seat to show off to Lil' Pip. He sticks out his tongue at her. She doesn't miss the opportunity to do stick hers out right back at him.  
  
The next thirty minutes are filled with beautiful music. Sort of.  
  
"U noe Daeshur an Praensiss an Kearmut an Diekzun . . . ."  
  
"That's not right!"  
  
"Yaes it iz!"  
  
"No, it's not!"  
  
"Yaes it iz!"  
  
"Is not!"  
  
"Stop it! Just start with the Rudolph part," I scold.  
  
"Rudeoelf da Raed nozd ranedear. . . ."  
  
"Reindeer," echoes Lil' Pip.  
  
"Haed a vary shiennie noze. . . ."  
  
"Like a lightbulb!" sings Lil' Pip.  
  
Legolas turns and glares at her but keeps on singing, increasing his volume.  
  
"An if u eber saew it. . . . "  
  
"Saw it," repeats Lil' Pip.  
  
"Maek her stoep dat!" growls the Prance to me. "She'z maekin fuen of me!"  
  
"That's the way the song goes!" Lil' Pip protests.  
  
"Noe it'z noet!"  
  
"Yes it is!"  
  
"Noe it'z noet!"  
  
"Yes it is!"  
  
"Iz noet!"  
  
"Is too!"  
  
"Alright!" yells Yes Dear. "No more Christmas carols!"  
  
Party Pooper.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Soon little cartoon Santa signs are appearing on both sides of the road, and the singing evolves into another kind of competition.  
  
"Dere'z won!" shouts the elven prince from the front seat.  
  
"I don't see anything," whines Lil' Pip, her nose pressed to the window.  
  
"Rite dere! Luuk!"  
  
She growls at him.  
  
A few moments later, "Luuk! Dere's anuthr won!"  
  
"Momma, that's not fair! Why does he always get to ride in the front?"  
  
"Because he always throws up when he rides up the mountains in the back," I answer.  
  
"That's disgusting," she moans.  
  
Three sign-spottings more and Lil' Pip has had enough.  
  
"He always wins! It's just not fair! How come I can't ever see one first, huh? Just one, that's all I ask!"  
  
"I hav da eyez of a haewk an da eerz of a foex," says Elfboy.  
  
I knew Thranduil was right about him spending entirely too much time with that dwarf.  
  
We pull into the farmyard and head up the hill to the barn to find a place to park. This year the lot's so full of cars they've got an employee directing traffic.  
  
Legolas is out of the van as soon as we stop. He makes a beeline first for the bathroom, then I see him dash across to the area where the big old farm truck picks everyone up to take them out to the tree field. A few seconds later, he's dashing back, dodging through the bumpers of the $40K SUV's lined up for parking, waving to the drivers as they slam on the brakes to keep from hitting him.  
  
"Luuk! Luuk, al!" he cries, holding his hand out to me. "Luuk whut I goet!"  
  
I peer carefully into his outstretched palm, looking for whatever it is that has gotten him so excited. I see nothing but the lines of his palm and maybe a raindrop or two.  
  
"Sea?" he says, pointing to his hand.  
  
Still nothing. Not even a speck of dirt.  
  
"You'll have to tell me, baby. Your eyes are better than mine."  
  
"Rite dere! Sea dat?" When I shake my head no, he gives an exasperated sigh and points again, "Sea dat snoewflaek?"  
  
Well, maybe there USED to be a snowflake on his palm, but it's long gone now. "I think it melted, sweetheart. Go catch me another one."  
  
"Okae!" he says, bounding off through the line of cars, setting off another round of beeping horns.  
  
By the time I can change into my old tennis shoes, he's back. "Coem oen!" he begs, tugging on my arm. "Mike sez we goetta git oen rite noew if we waenna goe!"  
  
A few moments later, we're coasting down the hill with Legolas perched firmly on top of the cab of the truck, humming away to himself. The soft strains of "O Tannenbaum" followed by "White Christmas" waft down from where he's balanced precariously. Every time we hit a rut in the dirt road or make a turn, it's all I can do not to reach out to steady him, though I know I really don't need to. It's just become a habit I'm finding hard to break.  
  
Or maybe it's just a habit I don't WANT to break.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
It doesn't take long before the snow is falling freely. Big, beautiful white flakes that drop down from the sky, spinning slowly before they hit the ground. The wind is picking up too, making us a lot less selective than last year as far as wandering around endlessly looking for perfection goes. Before long we're back on the truck, heading up the hill to the barn.  
  
Legolas gets more antsy by the minute as the day wanes on. When the truck finally rolls to a stop, he bounces down off the cab in such a hurry I think maybe he's after another bathroom break, but he heads in the opposite direction. He heads toward the concession stand in the barn.  
  
Moments later, while I 'm helping Yes Dear match the ticket in his hand with the ticket on the tree we selected, Legolas wanders dejectedly out of the barn and goes straight to the car. I find him sitting on the wet ground beside the passenger side door.  
  
"Legolas? What's wrong?" I ask, dropping to my knees beside him. The worried, defeated look on his face scares me to death.  
  
"Legolas?"  
  
He looks up, and his deep blue eyes meet mine. They hold the weight of the worlds combined, both Middle-earth as well as the modern one.  
  
"He'z goen."  
  
"What? Who's gone?"  
  
"Saenta Klawse. He'z alraedy goen. He deedn't wate fur me tu git hear." He looks up at me, and there are tears in his eyes.  
  
"al? Hoew em I goenna ask heem tu seand me bak if he izn't hear?"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Lub Ledderz frum Legolas  
  
I dunnoe if I weel git anuthur oeppurtuenity tu rite tu all of u. I hoep soe, buet tiem iz ruennin vary shoert at dis pownt. Hear goez:  
  
Max Jive: Deed u like my keetchin? It'z aelmoest dun noew. Mebbe whin I git hoem I kin maek sum reanovashunz tu Ada'z throen ruum dere in Mirkwuud. He'd like dat. al sed tu tael u she'z sean whut Weel Tuernur kin due wid a pierate bowt, an she'z noet eantureastid. She oenlee haz muney fur won keetchin *huegz an keesiz fur u*  
  
SarWolfe Snape: Da keetchin tuerned ouwt okae aftur all. *seandz u a beeg kueddul*  
  
Chan: U like da Caerpintur'z Braydz? Dey hep a loet. U like hoew I luuk wid tuulz tuu? Mebbe I culd git a joeb jest hoeldeeng da tuulz, like a moedul en sum of doze buukz like dey hav at da frunt of Valinor.I like Jeapurdee tuu. Dey haed Frodo az won of da ansurz laest weak. Hannon le fur da peekulz, an fur all da huegz an keesiz. I weel mees u tu. *hoeldz u klose an keesiz u deap won laest tiem*  
  
daw the minstrel: I deedn't due tuu guud wid doze tuulz, buet doen't tael al. She theenkz I deed moest of da wurk an dat'z whie Joe gave her a bedder prise dan doze uthur gueyz. I doen't waent tu spoyl it fur her. *skweazes u guudbye*  
  
SperryDee: I hav noet sean da X-men buukz, buet I deed goe sea da mooveez wid al an Yaes Deer. Soe faer ouwr trea iz steel staendin. Nun of da kaetz has maeniged tu nok it doewn, tho dey hav tryed. Taek kaer of ursef an da paetz. I weel mees u. *huegz u*  
  
JastaElf: I hoep tu fiend a spaeshul fraend whin I git bak tu Meedle-erth. al sez tael u thaenk u soe vary muech fur leevin her tu eggsplayen dat won. *THUED* You know, Jasta, he used to watch Jeopardy all the time, but now he's not allowed to watch unless one of us is watching with him to turn off the sound when the commercials and the final question come on. It's just been too much on him. . . .I'm okae noew, hoenust. Ada, taek guud kaer of Jasta. I proemess tu maek u prowd, okae? Weesh me luuk *duz da worrierz haendshaek wid bof of u beafoar I huegz u bof haerd won laest tiem*  
  
Lord Elrond's Bailiff: al iz tuu shoekd tu reaspoend. I theenk she reely liked da soupeena u seant her. She deed sae u ar rite abot my spaellin. Eggskuse me, buet deed u reely sae dat I hav tu kroess da see wid dat Dwaerf tu praezurve sum kiend of kaennon? Kin't dey jest maek anuthur kaennon? I meen, I thot dere wuz oenlee won Reeng, an u'd thaenk sumbuddie wuld lern noet tu maek theegz like dat enimoer, theengz dat wuld rekwire suech a sakrefise az maekin an elf kroess da see wid a Dwaerf. . . A DWAERF???  
  
Lady Silence: *whipez da choklit flaevurd leep gloess oeff my faese wid a naepkin* I'm soe glaed u ar haeppie abot da uepdayte. *shaekz fleepurz wid all da Peangwinz* Taek guud kaer of her, pleeze? *pakz da choclit kaek and praetzulz an cuukiez entu my pokitz* I weel chaerish deze fureber. . . okae, uenteel I feenish eetin dem, buet dat'z da saem thaeng en my buuk, okae? *gievz u a beeg hueg an a kees*  
  
Nilmandra: U noe, we culd proebubly maek a keelin saellin Elf Caerpintur Kaelendurz. Doze Roehan beerdid men deed luuk like laydeez, an mebbe dey wuld like a pikshur of sum fien elf Caerpinturz oen dere waellz. Hummm. . . *snoegz u won laest tiem, taesteeng dat sweat deesurt u haed fur a snaek erlier*  
  
caranwen: I weel chaerish ur ledder furever. My hart ez lieftid wid da seekrits u shaerd. Due noet krie, fur I em strowng an weel bea okae. *kueddulz u*  
  
Lady Peredhel: U muest meen Soular Poewur. Noet da kiend like dat seengur Barry White, tho he haz goet sum poewur wid da laydeez whin he seengz wid da loew loew voyse of heez, ueh hueh. . . .if I kin't taek a Reeeseez Peenuet Bueddur Kuep, I dunnoe hoew I em suepozd tu sneek a laeptoep cumpuedur entu Meedle-erth. I haevn't eggzaktlee haed muech luk wid eelektreesity laetlee. Guud luk tu u an da goerjus hueman guey. I weel mees u *hepz mysef tu a sweat loeng kees*  
  
Writer from Rivendell: Deed da plyurz an da skreudryvur wurk? I hoep soe. *huegz u agin fur luuk*  
  
anna: U like my eerz? Okae. It seamz dat dere ar a loet of peepul whoe like eerz wid poyntz oen dem. I like ur eerz, da wae dey ar iz perty jest like u. . . .*tuchiz ur eer, den keesiz ur cheak*  
  
Grammar Laedee: U goet PP guud, Grammar. She wuz toetully speachliss laest tiem. I doen't theenk dat Araporn weel like da Tuchin me gaem, buet I theenk I weel shoew it tu Merry an Pippin an leat dem bea da wonz dat shoew it tu heem an sea whut haeppinz. Dat wae I kin bea fur enuf awae dat hiz hoellurin woent huert my eerz soe muech. Mebbe whin al iz noet soe bizzy taekin kaer of me, she weel hav moer tiem tu speand taekin kaer of eberybueddie ealse. Thaenk u fur eberythaeng, eggspaeshully fur al. *gievz u da beegist hueg eber!*  
  
Ariarwen: I proemess tu seand u sum kiend of seegnul. U muest wach kaerfullee tho. *seandz huegz an keesiz bak tu u!*  
  
Arienna DyBane: I haevn't haed muech tiem tu praktise wid eni uthur boe buet da won frum Galadriel en Lothlorien. It iz vary nise, an I doen't noe whut I wuld due widowt it. Namarie! *Huegz u bak*  
  
leail: I dunnoe whut tu sae, nin mellon. I weel mees u taerribly tuu. U hav mint soe muech tu al an me. I dunnoe if al weel bea okae aftur I leeve, buet I muest goe, an I due feal bedder noweng dat u weel bea hear tu luuk aftur her. She iz a fuell tiem joeb, u noe. Taek kaer of da leedle wonz, fur da guud of ur Erth an mien. *boewz huemblee beafoar u, den taekz u en my aerms an snoegz u guud won laest tiem*  
  
Andy8: Dat wader wuz a maess! Bea a truew worrier an alwaez hep ur moem, okae Andy? It iz uep tu u noew. I kinnot prowtekt her eni loengur. She weel nead u. *Beastoewz da hiegh hoenur of da Elves oen u*  
  
Cara7: I steel hav won moer dae fur dat praesint tu coem in. I weel wach fur it, okae? Thaenk u fur theenkeng of me. I weel neber furgit u. Dis wuz Legolas, ober an ouwt, *huegglz u*  
  
Shar-Frael: Da keetchin iz doewn tu da leedle tuchiz. Deed u sea da pikshur oen da bio paege? It shur luukz deefrint. I em soerrie I weel noet git tu sea it feenishd. Namarie! *huegz u*  
  
Space-Case 7029: Oeh yaeh, baybee! (c Legolas) I wuld fiend a plase tu ware doze owtfeetz, beeleeve me! Haldir wuld hep me fur shur. Doze thaengz u askd wear Caerpintur'z Seekritz, like whie u muest aelwaez bea laet fur a joeb. Noebuddie noez dat. I weel mees u tu *seandz u a beeg doze of elbin lub*  
  
Jaded Scorpio: oeh yaeh, baybee! (c Legolas) Dat'z a guud ideea abot da nale guen! I em glaed ur keetin wuz okae. I theenk Gandalf da Gray wuld bea a guud naem, if he haezn't won alreedy. U culd kaell heem Mithrandir. *gievz u a loeng kueddle*  
  
Landos Star: Deed u sea da keetchin? It'z luukin muech bedder, tho I muest aedmiet dat I mees da wader fowntan. I wuld coem bak if I culd, buet I doen't eggspaekt it weel bea poessibul dis tiem. *Skweeziz u*  
  
Newmoon: I culd neber bea aengree wid u, my lub. Hueg me wonse agin, okae? *Hoeldz u a loeng tiem*  
  
Leedle Peep: U ar da baest leedle seestur an elfboy culd eber dreem of. Doen't chaeng a thaeng, eggspaeshully ur ruum. I like it jest like it iz. . . . That's because you're not finished helping to clean it, are you elfboy? Now go put those Barbie dresses back where you found them. And if she catches you with that kangaroo bracelet, you'll never make it back to Middle-earth, so you better put that back too. *groewlz an suelkz oeff* You know, Pip, you can always tell when he's up to something. He's a lot like your father.  
  
Phoenix Flight: My hare deed groew bak, reely kwik! Noebuddie weel bea abul tu tael whin I git bak. Taek gudd kaer of usef! *cueddlz u*  
  
Katani Petitedra: U shuld bie stoek en dose theengz haegin owta ur eerz. Den u kuld giev uep byen doze loettury teekitz. *huegz u bekuz I theenk u weel nead it moer dan enibuddie ealse I eber neu*  
  
Lady Aphrodite: Ur weesh iz my koemmand, milaydee. I oenlee weesh u culd haev joyend us eerlier, buet u maed it jest en tiem! *hoeldz u kloese, keesiz u sweatlee*  
  
Dunrosiel: I hoep u ar goen tu bea okae wonse skool leatz owt. It'z oenlee a feu moer dayz. al sez she wuld lub tu sea da pikshur, eben if I em goen, soe seand it eniwae. *huegz u tite*  
  
Angaloth: Mmmmm. . . da dreel. I lub da dreel. I reely waent won of doze nayleguenz tho. Orcs wuld bea skaerd of dat! Hav fuen at da paertee! Weesh me luuk! *gievz u a nise beeg hueg*  
  
Holly: I em goen tu mees Pantene. Da cundishuner en Meedle-erth iz perty guud, buet dis Panteen. . . *sizhs* Straewbarry shaempuu sowndz guud tuu. *seandz u a hueg an a keez*  
  
Magical Rachel: U thaenk dey hav a joeb oepeneeng at da "Whut noet tu waer" Proegraemm? If I coem bak, I weel nead a joeb. al sez I em priselaess noew, soe I theenk she iz aelmoest ouwt of moeny. I em glaed I goet tu tipe tu u won laest tiem. *Huegz an keesiz fur u*  
  
The Karenator: Deed u sea da keetchin? It'z aelmoest feenishd. al an Yaes Deer kin due da raest of da wurk demsefz. I em glaed ur fealeeng bedder. I weel bea kaerful an vary braev an vary stroeng tu whin I goe bak. U due da saem hear, okae? *gievz u a beeg hueg an a kees*  
  
The Two Princesses: I em an evbin prance trained tu cuntroel mysef en daengurus situashunz. Haeving al maed at u deafinutlee kwalafiez az daengurus. Deed u hav a guud treep? I hoep soe. I proemess tu bea da braevist worrier eber sean en Meedle-erth, an I proemess tu aelwaez remimbur u an ur faemilee an hoew muech u mean tu me an al. Im mel le, leedle wonz. *seandz a hoel lien of XOXOXOXOXXOXOXXOXOXOXOOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO*  
  
Miss Aranel: MMmmmm. . . .straewbaerrie jaem. I weel aelwaez chaerish Straewbaerrie jaem. An Reasiz Peenuet Budder Kuepz, an Sneekurz baerz, an Roeky Roawd Ise Kreem, an Koern Dawgs. . .Legolas! Corn Dogs?? Ueh-hueh. . .Guud luk wid ur eggzams. *gievz u a loeng skweaze*  
  
PuterPatty: I weel luuk fur Meleth az suun az da Kwest iz ober. I em soe glaed we maet, Melethril. I em foereber en ur deabt. U hav bean an empoertint paert of my life, an I weel neber forgit u. No bell, Melethril. No beren. Taek guud kaer of al fur me. I em deapeandin oen u. *tuchez ur cheak, den puellz u klose an hoeldz u beafoar keesing u deaplee, hoepeeng u noe dis is da wae I weel kees Meleth az suun as I find her*  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
I goe tumoerroe. Weesh me luk. I lub u all. 


	22. Discovering Awareness

Chapter 22 Discovering Awareness  
  
He rides home in complete silence, gazing out of the front passenger-side window. No Christmas carols, no rolling down the glass and screeching for Santa Claus at every tree lot we pass, no begging to stop to play putt-putt golf in the rain. Not a sound, not a word.  
  
When we get home, he asks to be excused to go to bed early. That's the last I see of him Friday night.  
  
Grammar Laedee comes on Saturday. Legolas is back to his normal self, helping Lil' Pip play with her tiny Polly Pocket dolls and Polly's new airplane and limousine that my mom bought for Pip's birthday gift. They dress his action figure in dozens of Barbie's best outfits, posing him by the trunk of the limo with the secret hot tub exposed. "Moovee Staer Legolas" is what he calls the action figure now.  
  
Mom heads back home on Monday morning, and the Prance heads out the back door shortly after she's gone. I call him to get in the car so I can head for work, but he doesn't answer. When I check his room, his bow and quiver of arrows are gone. I leave a note taped to the bathroom mirror to tell him where I've gone.  
  
Work is an arduous affair. It seems everyone finds all their overdue books when the relatives come, and the book drop outside is full to overflowing. It takes me an extra couple of hours to get everything back to a semblance of normal, and when I head home after picking up Lil' Pip from school, I still can't find the Prance.  
  
At dusk he suddenly appears on the doorstep, carefully brushing the mud from his boots until they are elven clean once again. When he comes inside, he heads straight for his room, deposits the weaponry, and changes into clean jeans and a sweatshirt.  
  
"Whut'z fur sueppur?" he asks, giving me a hug in the kitchen.  
  
"I think we're going out again," I answer. I decide not to ask where he's been all day. Traditionally, if Legolas wants me to know something, it doesn't matter how big of a secret it is, eventually he'll spill the beans.  
  
He laughs and jokes with Lil' Pip over hamburgers and French fries at our local hangout, threatening to tell the waitresses it's her birthday and have them all come out and sing to her, even though her birthday is now past. Had I known him only a few short days, I'd swear nothing has changed.  
  
After Lil' Pip is tucked in, the Prance approaches me with a bit of news I hadn't expected.  
  
"I'm noet goeng oen da kaempeeng treep," he announces in a soft but firm voice.  
  
This is a good thing, actually. Lil' Pip has invited her father to chaperone her 5th grade class on their trip to the mountains for a three day science adventure camp. We've paid the bill for Lil' Pip and for Yes Dear, but Legolas was never invited in the first place.  
  
"I'm glad you decided to stay here with me," I console him. "I could use some company."  
  
He nods but doesn't say anything more, choosing instead to play with the cats by having them chase after the flashlight beam for a bit before heading back to bed.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
On Wednesday, the four of us head to Lil' Pip's school at the break of day, loaded down with sleeping bags, pillows, hats and gloves, winter boots, and a suitcase loaded full of sweatshirts and heavy socks and the like. The forecast calls for snow in the mountains during the trip, and Yes Dear wants to be sure he's got extra of everything. As Legolas and I get ready to leave the classroom where we've dropped them off, I go round and hug all the little boys goodbye.  
  
"I'm so sorry," I say to each one as I give him a squeeze. Not, "Have a great time," or "Be good." Nope, I choose to say to them, "I'm so sorry." Finally, one of the other mothers who is not going asks what I mean.  
  
"Yes Dear's going as a chaperone," I say with delight.  
  
"So you've got a three-day vacation coming to yourself?" one of them teases, smiling at my good fortune.  
  
"Yep. And those little boys are in for three days of boot camp, only they don't know it yet."  
  
In just a few hours, Legolas and I are done for the day at work and have the afternoon to find something to do. I'm considering what I'll say to him, wanting to have a talk about his upcoming return to Middle-earth and how he'll handle life without hairdryers and televisions and the wonders of Breyer's Ice Cream.  
  
Turns out there's not much to talk about.  
  
We're not in the house ten minutes when he steps behind me in the kitchen and seizes me around the neck. Not a friendly hug kind of hold, but an aggressive in-my-space confrontation. His body is pressed firmly against my back, and his arm is locked under my chin.  
  
"What the heck is wrong with you?" I gasp, finding it hard to breathe. I bring my hands up to try to pull his arm away so I can draw some air.  
  
He squeezes harder. Suddenly I feel a rush of adrenaline as I realize he's not playing with me. He's deadly serious. And Yes Dear and Lil' Pip are in the mountains a hundred miles away for the next three days.  
  
Struggling, I find I cannot break his hold. He pushes me forward against the new kitchen counter.  
  
"Legolas! Stop! You're hurting me!"  
  
"U hav furgoettin whoem u ar deeleng wid," he growls in my ear. "U hav maed da furst meestake. U muest neber leat ur gard doewn like dis."  
  
He's right. Taking care of him for the past 2 years, picking out his clothes and making sure he eats more than pure sugar and showing him all the things that he accepts with childlike simplicity has skewed my view.  
  
Legolas Greenleaf is, and has always been, an Elven Assassin.  
  
"Ar u frietend?"  
  
I pause, remembering what happened after Frodo was asked the same question. "Yes."  
  
"Noet neerly enuf. I wuld bea reamees en my dueteez if I aelloewd u tu konseedur ursef a worrier wid reaspoensiz like dese."  
  
I pull his arm down a bit more, but he's persistent. He gives me the tiniest space to suck in a bit more air.  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"Tu noe u weel bea saef. Tu noe eberythaeng weel bea okae wonse I em noe loengur hear tu proetekt u."  
  
"I'll be fine. Now let me go!"  
  
"U ar en noe poesishun tu maek deamaendz of me."  
  
He's right. AGAIN. Oh, how I hate that.  
  
"What do you want?" I hiss.  
  
"Shoew me whut u wuld due tu git awae if dis haeppend wonse I em goen."  
  
I try a few ideas, but he only tightens his grip and cuts my air off. I stop struggling, giving in to the inevitable. I've been blindsided by an elven assassin. Now my job is to live to tell about it.  
  
"Dat'z paethaetic," he scolds, clearly annoyed. He turns me loose, and I make haste to get a full kitchen's length away from him.  
  
"Don't you ever try that again," I growl, rubbing at my throat and sucking in great breaths of air.  
  
"Noew ur trayneeng beaginz," he declares.  
  
For the next three days, Legolas teaches me the art of self-defense. I learn how to ward off an attacker from the rear, the front and both sides. I learn how to avoid dangerous situations, and how to pick up signs that warn I should leave the area.  
  
The problem is I totally suck at being able to injure my attacker.  
  
"I dunnoe whut I'm goen tu due wid u, al," he exclaims, frustrated. "U ar tuu truesteeng!"  
  
He sits me down at the kitchen table and rests his weary head on his folded arms there on its surface. I hear the weight of the world in his heavy sigh.  
  
Finally, he lifts his head.  
  
"I hav sumpthaeng fur u tu reed," he says, rising from his chair and going to his bedroom. He brings back a book, the cover of which reads, "After The Darkest Hour" by Kathleen A. Brehony, PH.D  
  
"Reed dis," he says, opening its pages.  
  
I start to read aloud the paragraph that he points to.  
  
"Warriors take in everything directly and authentically, without hiding anything from themselves or others. They are open to knowing and understanding all there is to know about themselves-the good, the bad, and the ugly. Everything is real. To a warrior, the world and oneself are apprehended directly in each and every movement. The beauty of pain mingles with the beauty of pleasure in a ceaseless flow of consciousness and ever-present, mindful experience." (p 247)  
  
"A worrier muest hav awaerniss," he states. "Noew reed hear. . . ."  
  
I continue where he has moved his finger:  
  
"Living as a warrior requires a brave, unconquerable spirit, perseverance, and courage in facing both life and death, good times and bad. Warriors are men and women of relentless action who choose to act on instead of reacting to the events of their lives. A true warrior avoids nothing, no matter how painful it might be." (p 248)  
  
"Many people mistakenly believe that courage is the absence of fear when, in fact, it means moving through our fears and other painful feelings . . . . Courage is the determination to keep walking when the path is plagued with danger or our hearts are broken wide open. It's the realization that something else is more important than our own fear or suffering." (p 248-249)  
  
I look up to meet his blue eyes, gazing with love down at me. "U muest bea braev, al," he whispers. "Noew reed dis . . . ."  
  
"The warrior's regard for others and desire to alleviate their pain is paramount. Warriors make every decision based on what is to the benefit of others, what works best for the greater good. Warriors are dedicated to the sacredness that is life and avoid aggression whenever possible. They never use their powers to hurt others. Even when strength or force must be employed, it is always a last resort and utilized to protect the weak and innocent or to maintain the righteous beliefs of all such as justice and freedom. Warriors don't cause others to suffer. . . . The warrior is a genuine hero who seeks to shield the vulnerable and care for those who need help. . . . the warrior is humble, kind, respectful, and protective always. " (p 249)  
  
He smiles at me and pats my arm. "Dat paert weel bea eezy fur u. Ur guud at dat paert aelreedy."  
  
He turns the page and slides his finger down to the place he wants to show me next.  
  
". . . discipline means mastery over our own body, mind, and the resources at our command to solve problems and meet the challenges in our lives. It means taking the responsibility for keeping ourselves healthy, vital, and strong. It means practicing self-control and being ready for anything."  
  
"Warriors get into good habits of self-care and self-discipline, so that when an inevitable challenge arises in their lives they can rely on these practices to sustain them, help them think clearly, grit their teeth, and do what they must to move through the crisis." (p 251)  
  
"Dat'z da won u REELY nead tu wurk oen," he scoffs kindly.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Yes Dear and Lil' Pip return safely on Friday. Yes Dear swaggers off the bus, proudly announcing, "They nicknamed me 'The Warden'." The little boys scatter when he walks by. The teachers spend an elaborate amount of time thanking us both for his being able to accompany them, and invite him to come back again next year even though Lil' Pip will be going to an entirely different school.  
  
So much for success.  
  
The linoleum man shows up on time and without any pomp or circumstance puts in the new floor while Legolas works on his last responses to his fans.  
  
Suddenly I find myself typing this in real time.  
  
It's 7:00am on Tuesday the sixteenth day of December, in the year 2003. I have two tickets to Trilogy Tuesday in my hand. The elven archer is dressed and standing at the door. We're going to the line party in Greenville, not Greenwood. He's all excited because he'll get to see himself on the big screen in both "The Fellowship of the Ring" and "The Two Towers" all over one more time.  
  
We'll be seeing "The Return of the King" at 10:00pm. Legolas plans to reenter Middle-earth in Greenville, since it's the first showing in our state. I have no idea if it will work, but that gives us two hours to fly by van all the way to Greenwood and try again if he doesn't find the portal through the screen at this earlier showing.  
  
Wish us luck. . . .  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Bibliograpy: The quotations are taken without permission from "After The Darkest Hour" by Kathleen A. Brehony, PH.D. I found them very appropriate, and our elven Prince quite the astute researcher indeed. I had no idea he was reading anything but car repair manuals while he waited to sneak up on me for the "Buu!" game while I was working. 


	23. Trilogy Tuesday

Chapter 23 Trilogy Tuesday  
  
Legolas and I get to the theater at 8:30 am. I've worn my green velvet elf dress and the Prance has plaited my warrior braids for me, but he's wearing modern day clothing. Can't take a chance on him drawing any unwanted attention to himself. We end up twelfth and thirteenth in line respectively, and that's when moviegoer number fourteen shows up.  
  
Legolas spots him with his keen eyes from half a parking lot away.  
  
"NAEZGOOL!" he shouts, leaping between the black robed specter that emerges from the car and the rest of us standing patiently in line. He assumes a protective stance.  
  
"He IS a Nazgul!" I exclaim, clapping my hands gleefully. "He's going to be the first contestant in our costume contest!"  
  
"Hey, Bill!" says the lady standing in line in front of us. "Your costume turned out perfectly."  
  
"Wait, wait," says Bill the Nazgul. He lowers his hood to reveal a rugged human face in regular flesh-tone colors. "I'm not ready yet."  
  
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of black winter gloves, decorated with tiny silver triangles cut out of some kind of metallic backed cardboard like you'd find in a frozen pizza box. He reaches into the other pocket and pulls out a black wad of fabric.  
  
"My wife's pantyhose," he says, stretching the nylon over his head. Now he looks like a bank robber. "Is my neck showing?" he asks me as he pulls on the gloves.  
  
I take a moment to adjust his costume for him. "Now you officially look like a Nazgul," I say.  
  
"Noe he duzn't," scoffs Legolas. "Heez shoewz ar all roeng."  
  
"What's wrong with his shoes?" asks the lady in line in front of us.  
  
"Dere noet powentee," Legolas states, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
"I'm off-duty," says Bill the Nazgul. "All Nazgul's wear penny loafers when they're off-duty."  
  
Legolas contemplates this.  
  
"Wait till you see my daughter Tara," Bill says. "She's coming as an elf, pointy ears and all. She eats this stuff up."  
  
The Prance makes a huffing noise, crosses his arms over his chest, and turns to stare at the passing traffic.  
  
"Don't be rude!" I scold him as I pull him aside. "We have to spend all day with these people. You don't want to offend anyone and have this not work out, do you?"  
  
I don't have to remind him of the gravity of this whole situation. I had wanted to attend Trilogy Tuesday from the moment I heard about it, and had purchased two tickets by phone as soon as they became available, thinking I could go with Legolas to the event in Greenville to see "The Fellowship of the Ring" followed by "The Two Towers" before we had to skedaddle back to Greenwood to the theater there for him to find his way back to Middle- earth. From the way things originally looked, we had two hours to make the 45 minute journey. No problem.  
  
That was then, before I found out that "The Return of the King" was NOT showing in the Regal Cinemas theater in Greenwood that Legolas came from. Not at all, not even the next day at regular time. "The Return of the King" would be playing at the theater in the Greenwood Mall. All bets were off.  
  
Thus the elven prince and I came to attend "Trilogy Tuesday". But you know there's more to this story than that. There always is.  
  
I became the Trilogy Tuesday line party leader. By default, I assure you. The person assigned by The One Ring.net as the line party leader didn't hold a ticket to Tuesday's sold-out events, and the theater wasn't about to help her out with securing one, no matter who she claimed to be. So it came to pass that Jenn and I decided to split the events of Dec 17th into two different parties. She took the three-auditorium Midnight Premier. I took Trilogy Tuesday.  
  
And thus it began.  
  
We had Second Breakfast served to us in line by the nicest people from Atlanta Bread Company. They took pity on us and brought us coffee and hot chocolates too, complete with foamy whipped toppings and chocolate and cinnamon sprinkles. We had blueberry muffins, and croissants, and cinnamon- raisin rolls, and pastries filled with cream cheese. Legolas and I each got a hot chocolate and a cranberry-orange muffin. Absolutely fantastic.  
  
While we were outside having Second Breakfast, the theater manager approached the box office and picked up the intercom phone.  
  
"Hello Elves, Wizards, Humans, and Nazgul," he said, grinning. "My name is James. I regret to inform you that New Line did not send the correct reels of film, and today's 'Trilogy Tuesday' event has been cancelled. You can all go home now."  
  
Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Matter of fact, nobody did anything but stand there staring.  
  
"Due u waent me tu goe git my boew?" whispered a fair tenor voice in my ear.  
  
"No, baby, he's just kidding," I said, hoping I was telling the truth.  
  
After another thirty seconds or so, the manager turns the grin into a scowl and says, "Fine, then. To make it up to you, we're going to let you all come in early. Don't break down the door."  
  
Everyone moves in patiently and listens to the expected list of rules and instructions about which bathrooms we can use and where to go to get back in to our special theater. Security is high, and gatecrashers are apparently expected. Once we're in and settled in our seventh-row-up left aisle seats, I pin the Prance's ticket to the collar of his Mark Martin t- shirt where it's clearly visible to the ushers so he won't have the chance to lose it fishing around in his pockets looking for it.  
  
"Now, go have fun," I tell him. "Just don't go out of the auditorium without letting me know."  
  
I spend the time introducing myself to the folks I didn't meet while still outside in the line, and soon I have about fifty new friends. And it's only just come round to time for elevensies.  
  
I head back out to the customer service desk to make sure the prizes for the costume contest winner are ready. I end up having to leave Legolas to fend for himself while I go outside to call Jenn to figure out what we're going to do about the restaurant that didn't come through with the free dinner prizes we were expecting.  
  
When I come back in, a growing chorus of about eighty voices shouts in unison, "al! Someone's looking for you!" It takes me a few seconds to discern that 'Someone' is still in the customer service area, so I grab the Prance and head back out to the desk.  
  
There's no one standing at the desk, and no one from management seems to know who it was either. Thinking it might have been someone from the restaurant Jenn's called about prizes, I step outside the front door to peek into the parking lot. Legolas follows me.  
  
There's a handsome looking fellow with a brown bomber jacket standing in the parking lot just outside the theater. Supposing there's really no one else it could be, I decide to take a chance.  
  
"Were you looking for al?" I call across the parking lot as I walk toward him. As he turns toward me, I suddenly spot the logo on the side of his vehicle as another man climbs out of the passenger side.  
  
Channel 4 News.  
  
Oh God. 'Run, al, run,' my mind screams.  
  
Prance Helpful springs into action. "Dis iz al!" he shouts, grabbing me by the arm and pointing at me. "Hear she iz rite hear!"  
  
The reporter and I chat for a few moments in the chill air, and he lets me know the theater management has told him the television camera will NOT be allowed inside the auditorium. He wants to interview the contestants of the costume contest, so I head back into the warmth of the building to gather the "Fellowship".  
  
Legolas tags along behind me, hot on my heels.  
  
"Ar u goen tu taelk tu heem oen teevee, al? Whut weel u sae? Weel u tael heem abot whie we ar hear? Weel he waent tu sea ouwr tikitz? Weel he ask loetz of kwestshunz? Haez he sean da moeveez or red da buukz? Weel he taek ur pikshur? Duz he noe Beeg Burd an Elmoe? Weel he taek MY pikshur??"  
  
It ends up that the reporter talks with participants who have come from the farthest away to be with us for the twelve-plus hours of entertainment. There are three college friends from more than 500 miles away who have driven all night to get here, as well as several from more than half that distance who came because their local theaters were already sold out. He films the costume contestants, asks about what's packed in the coolers everyone's carried in so we don't have to live off of popcorn and M & M's, and continuously quizzes everyone he interviews about their "Geek Factor".  
  
He even asks me if I mind being seen with an auditorium full of geeks.  
  
"Doesn't bother me," I say.  
  
"So, if the world needs saving from evil, you should call a Geek," he asks, laughing.  
  
"Works for me," I answer.  
  
After he leaves, I call Yes Dear to tell him. He promises to get off work early to tape it.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Legolas and I head back into the auditorium to start the Trivia Game. I've got a copy of the Trivial Pursuit Movie Trilogy Edition version of the game as well as another version from the Esdevium company that's all bookverse. We start with the movie version, and the hardest part of the game is being able to read fast enough to weed out the really obvious questions. The only question I end up stumping this crowd on is this one:  
  
"What body of water lies to the west of the land of Middle-earth according to the map in "The Fellowship of the Ring"?"  
  
What? You don't already know? Well, I'm certainly not going to tell you. Go look it up.  
  
We pull out the bookverse version and soon have spotted our heavy book readers. Some of them later confess to having read the Trilogy for twenty years or more. When we take a break from the questions about thirty minutes before "Fellowship" is supposed to start, folks get out of their seats and actually begin to mingle.  
  
I wish that news reporter could see us now. We look like a pasture full of hobbits at Bilbo's long expected Eleventy-first Birthday Party.  
  
I gather the costume contestants at the front of the auditorium for the judging. After much deliberation, Tara the Elf is selected as the winner, despite heavy competition from Bill the Nazgul and a very realistic looking pair dressed as Frodo and Sam complete with furry feet. Pictures are taken, prizes awarded, and everyone sneaks off for a last bathroom break just before the music for "The Fellowship of the Ring" begins.  
  
Legolas nestles into his seat beside me with a Hershey's Milk Chocolate bar and a Mountain Dew. Bill the Nazgul and his wife sit beside us, and she insists that I eat the other half of her sub sandwich, since she can't finish it all. I am ever so grateful, as this will be the only real sustenance I will have all day. Planning and coordinating as well as participating in an event like this doesn't leave much time for eating, and I'll need to keep up my strength just like Frodo.  
  
It seems like only minutes since "Fellowship" started, and already it is over. The audience cheers and applauds wildly as the credits roll.  
  
"You've got a twenty minute intermission," shouts James from the front right corner. "Then we'll show 'The Two Towers' and you'll have another twenty before I roll the previews of the movie you've all been waiting for. "  
  
Everybody applauds wildly again.  
  
"I gess dey reely goetta goe tu da bafruum baed!" Legolas exclaims beside me.  
  
Giggling, I pull him out of his seat and hand him a plastic gallon-sized Ziplock baggie full of little tan-colored rectangular sugar cookie wafers.  
  
"Help me pass out these 'Lembas', okay?"  
  
"Did you bake these yourself?" one fellow asks me as he takes two 'Lembas' and eyes my green elf dress and soft brown leather boots.  
  
"Of course!" I lie with a huge smile on my face. "Just not in a tree."  
  
The guy beside him reaches into the bag.  
  
"You know, one small bite is enough to fill the belly of a full grown man," I quip. I feel Legolas bristle beside me at the reference.  
  
"Then I'll need four," he answers with a wink.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"The Two Towers" ends in a thunderous round of applause.  
  
Twenty minutes left.  
  
"Quick, go change your clothes," I urge the Prance, tugging his bookbag out from under his seat. "You don't have long. Make sure you're dressed exactly like you were when you came back last time. "  
  
"U meen I hav tu deetch da boexurz?" he asks worriedly.  
  
"Legolas . . . ," I begin.  
  
"I noew, I noew. We alraedy taelkd abot dis." He picks up the bookbag and heads for the exit.  
  
While he's gone, I keep myself busy passing round a huge box of Kleenex tissues, urging everybody to take at least three and pointing to where I'll be sitting in case three turns out not to be enough. What really surprises me is the number of men who take more than one.  
  
When Legolas doesn't come back for seventeen minutes, I start to panic. I find him sitting on the bench outside the auditorium door, frantically going through every pocket in the clothing he had on before.  
  
"I kin't fiend my tikit!" he wails.  
  
"Look, honey, here it is, still pinned to your shirt," I say, picking up the Mark Martin t-shirt and removing the ticket from the collar.  
  
"You know, I would have let him in," says John, the current theater employee assigned to sentry duty. "He's been here all day, and he's been answering a lot of questions for me. I haven't read the books all the way through yet. Hey, I never even knew Arwen wasn't supposed to be riding that white horse. . . . What was his name again?"  
  
Smiling sweetly at John without answering, I usher Legolas in and turn to go down the right side of the theater this time. He'll need to enter the movie from the same side he was on when the last scene played.  
  
Once we reach the end of the hallway, we move to stand leaning against the wall so that the others can pass us to get back to their seats. I've already checked with the theater management, so I know we've got four new movie previews before "The Return of the King" starts. The extra minutes still don't calm my racing heart when the theater darkens and the film begins to run across the screen.  
  
"Hae! Dat'z da maen whoe theenkz he iz Araporn!" Legolas exclaims loudly, pointing at the image of Viggo Mortensen as the audio hypes the upcoming "Hildalgo."  
  
"You know, Viggo has that same effect on women everywhere," says the lady sitting in the first seat immediately to my left.  
  
I chuckle softly to myself. Legolas stands awestruck, staring blatantly at the screen, oblivious to everything as he takes in his hero in another form.  
  
When the trailer ends, he gives a little shake of his head and comes back to Modern-earth. As he does, his left hand drops to the waistband of his leggings and brushes purposefully against it.  
  
"Legolas! Give it to me."  
  
"Whut?"  
  
"You know what. Give me what you're hiding in those leggings."  
  
He scowls and drops his head, lifting his tunic and producing a package of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups from his waistband. As he does so, I catch sight of a flash of silver down the sleeve of his left arm.  
  
Lil' Pip's kangaroo bracelet, a gift from the Two Princesses all the way from Australia.  
  
"Give that to me too," I say firmly, holding out my hand. He makes a raspberry blowing sound and then reaches to unclasp the bracelet and drop it into my hand.  
  
"I jest waentid tu ware it a leedle bit loengur," he sighs dejectedly. "I wuzn't goenna keap it."  
  
"No, but I'll bet you were going to keep that love letter from PuterPatty you have hidden in your quiver."  
  
He stamps his foot in irritation. "al!"  
  
"Give it to me."  
  
He growls loudly as he pulls the quiver from his back, causing a round of "Shhhhh!'s" to echo through the audience. Kneeling on the floor and digging down deep, he drags out the Elmo handkerchief given to him by Princess Sienna and Princess Paris. Unfolding it, he sighs deeply as he pulls out the worn envelope with the little bluebird on the sealing sticker. He fondles it gently, running his finger lovingly over the green handwritten address on the front. There's a tear in his eye as he reluctantly hands the handkerchief and the envelope to me.  
  
"I wish that it were different, you know," I whisper. "I wish so much that you could take these things to remember all of us by. But we both know we can't take that chance, right?"  
  
"I noew," he says. When he rises from the floor, his eyes are averted. He's still hiding something.  
  
"Legolas. . . ."  
  
"Whut?"  
  
"Legolas . . . ," I say more insistently.  
  
"al . . . ," he counters back sassily.  
  
"Legolas!" I hiss at him this time, knowing we have less than one preview to go before he's got to find his place.  
  
"Buet, al! It'z soe smaell! Shurlee it woen't maek eni deefrinse!"  
  
I hold out my hand, wondering what it is that he's still got that could be so tiny he actually thinks he could make it through the screen with whatever magic that transports him without it being filtered out. From his left boot, he extracts a tiny white bead slightly bigger than a dime with multiple facets like one of those silver mirrored balls that they have for Glow Bowling at the bowling alley.  
  
It's from the friendship necklace that Cara8 sent to him that arrived only yesterday. His very favorite bead of all.  
  
As his hand makes contact with mine, handing his prize carefully over, he suddenly clutches my wrist and pulls himself close to me, burying his head in the warrior braids that cascade down my neck.  
  
"I doen't waenna goe, al," he whispers.  
  
My brain hits overload, and I can suddenly think of about forty million reasons why I should just take his hand and run blindly out of the door all the way to the van.  
  
"Legolas . . . ."  
  
He draws back suddenly, swipes his right sleeve across his eyes, and then steps back to an arms length away.  
  
"Im mel le, al. Weesh me luk."  
  
And with that, he's gone.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
There's no sign this time.  
  
I thought maybe I had missed it through the tears that started falling before I could even get back to my seat. I admit the action on the screen had me sitting at the edge of my seat for the entire movie, and not once did I take a bathroom break. It was all over far before I wanted it to be.  
  
I waited to be the last one out of the auditorium. I'm sure all the people who came to say thanks for the entertainment were wondering where my companion had gotten off to, but no one asked, thank God. I waited, but he was gone.  
  
I went back to see it again two days later, but I still didn't see a sign to reassure me everything went smoothly. There's no tripping over stones this time. Maybe he's a little more animated than the average elf, but he's certainly not out of character. Matter of fact, he's plain pretty, and that just about sums it all up.  
  
Today is Christmas. Today I will wait again. 


	24. Reflections

A/N: Thank you millions to J.R.R. Tolkien for bringing Legolas and his friends to life, and to Peter Jackson and New Line and all the people involved in making the book into film and reality. The song "Ho! Ho! Ho!" is found on page 88 in my copy of 'The Fellowship of The Ring'. Thank you to Evanescense for their haunting words and music in "My Immortal", which you will find interwoven in this chapter. Thanks also to Styx for "Come Sail Away". I am forever grateful to all of you who have followed Legolas and his story from the very beginning almost two whole years ago. Your love and encouragement made not only his life more exciting, but my own as well. Lots of love to Yes Dear, Lil' Pip, and Grammar Laedee, and especially to leail, without whose awesome knowledge this chapter would not exist as it is. PP sent it back a dozen times because she didn't like how it ended. leail is the one who told me to just do it my way, and the whole ending as you see it evolved from that small piece of advice. Hugs and kisses to my fabulous friend and all-time best beta PuterPatty on her birthday today. . . . this one's for you, Babe.  
  
  
Chapter 24      Reflections  
  
  
Dear Legolas,   
  
It's been almost three months now since your return journey to Middle-earth. Hardly a moment in your lifetime, though it seems like an eternity in mine. Not a day goes by without something reminding me of you.  
  
Everyone's been very kind to let me know how much they miss you. You've gotten lots of 'lub ledders' from your friends saying how amazing you were in 'The Movie' and how they wished you well. Patty and leail have been keeping me entertained and busy, knowing you wouldn't want me to just sit and stare at the compy screen. Some of your fangirls have been by to read your story even though they didn't leave a letter, since they know you won't be able to reply anymore. For some of them, I think your return home is just too painful to read at all.   
  
I was in the grocery store last week and Mrs. Helen asked how I was getting along without you. When I finally got myself back together, we reminisced about that first time I panicked when you and I got to the register and I realized all that was left of the produce I had put in the cart was four banana skins, two apple cores, three peach pits, and a plastic mesh sack that was once upon a time full of green grapes. We both laughed at her description of the look on my face, and then chuckled some more as we remembered how she suggested we solve the problem.   
  
"Just weigh him when you come in, honey, and we'll weigh him again when you go out," she instructed. Remember that? "Then you can pay for the change in his weight times the average price of whatever you saw him eat."   
  
The first time we tried it you wanted to ride the conveyor belt standing up, but even though I knew your superior elven balancing skills would keep you from getting hurt, the fact remains that the soles of you shoes are still dirtier than the seat of your jeans. I can still see you patiently waiting in line with the other customers, climbing up to sit on the conveyor belt and ride up to the scale that measures the produce, the evidence of how many bananas and grapes and other things you scarfed down revealed in your sudden weight gain. I'll always love Mrs. Helen for coming up with a way to keep me from worrying about fair payment for goods that couldn't be measured.   
  
_I'm so tired of being here  
Suppressed by all my childish fears  
And if you have to leave  
I wish that you would just leave  
'Cause your presence still lingers here  
And it won't leave me alone_  
  
I just can't help but worry about you. I know you're a warrior, and I know you can take care of yourself and all that, but you had gotten so accustomed to the things of "Modren-erth" while you were here, like microwaves and air conditioning and television. I guess you don't really need a microwave, since you love "peenuet buddur en straewburry jaem wid braed" so much. Don't need a microwave for that. And it's not like you ever seemed to feel the heat or the cold, or that you weren't perfectly capable of entertaining yourself for hours on end walking in the woods or making up songs in your head. I still remember accompanying you the day you made up the song about the beautiful autumn sights that surrounded us as we hiked through the trees, crunching leaves underneath our shoes. While I tromped, you strolled along effortlessly ahead of me over the forest bed, humming a familiar tune aloud. When I asked what you were doing, you sang in your melodious voice to the tune of the alphabet song (or was that 'Baa Baa Blacksheep'?):   
  
"I sea u en u sea me,  
Waelkeeng hear beeneeth da treaz.  
Da leevz aer culured yaelloe en read  
Da broewn wonz faell uepon ur haed.  
I sea u en u sea me,  
Huerrie uep—I goetta pea."  
  
Everything seemed so simple then, you know?   
  
When I was coming back from church the other night, I got caught by the train and it reminded me of the Christmas parade when we had not one but THREE trains cut through the middle of it. That was the longest Christmas parade the town has ever seen, but I wouldn't trade it for the world because if the floats hadn't gotten separated and had to wait for each other to catch up, I would never have had the chance to see you dancing in the middle of Main Street with the high school cheerleading team, doing the Macarena and the Bird Dance with a set of reindeer antlers perched on top of your handsome blond head.   
  
I never ceased to be amazed at how much everybody loved you.   
  
_These wounds won't seem to heal  
This pain is just too real  
There's just too much that time cannot erase…_  
  
Christmas became New Year's, New Year's became Valentine's Day. Lil' Pip won the Lieutenant Governor's writing contest at her school for the whole fifth grade, and now her paper is going to compete against the winners of the other schools in our district. Watching us working together to write up your adventures must have made a mark on her somehow. It had something to do with patriotism and what that meant to her, and your fine example of loyalty even unto the face of death was a wonderful inspiration for her. I never had a chance to thank you for being such a fine example for my child.   
  
_You used to captivate me  
By your resonating light…_  
  
Yes Dear finally put the lights up over the kitchen sink. You'd like them; they're very bright, like the spotlights down at the theater. He also put a new toilet in the back bathroom to replace the one with that annoying dripping sound coming from the crack in the tank. I know that wasn't entirely your fault – I should have warned you not to eat the green tomatoes from the garden before they turned red. I know you said you've forgiven me for that, but I still feel guilty about it.   
  
_Now I'm bound by the life you left behind…._  
  
Life goes on as normal. I've been trying to stay busy and I haven't had a chance to clean your room or wash your bed linens yet—I keep thinking I'll wait until it's a nice sunny day out and hang them outside to dry so they'll smell wind-blown fresh just like you like them. It's okay that it's taking me this long, since you washed them just a few days before you left anyway. You always did like them really crisp and clean.   
  
Your 'akshun feeguer' that I gave you for Christmas last year is right where you left him on top of my computer desk, still sporting a Lothlorien bow in one hand and a pink Barbie pocketbook in the other. He's got the mauve mirrored sunglasses over his eyes and the string of pearls around his neck too. 'Faek me' is wearing his Playboy kitten ears and Cara8's pretty bead necklace, guarding the front bay window and staring at the neighbors as they drive by, just like you must have told him to. I guess you want me to put on his St. Patrick's Day top hat now, right?   
  
Okay, maybe normal isn't exactly the right word. Life just sort of goes on.   
  
_Your face it haunts  
My once pleasant dreams  
Your voice it chased away  
All the sanity in me_  
  
I've watched 'The Movie' six times now, each time in a different theater all over the state. Sometimes with friends, sometimes with relatives, once alone.  
  
I'm incredibly proud of how you reacted to the crisis in Middle-earth. You stood so bravely against Sauron and his minions, fighting with flashing knives and singing bow, your count increasing with every movement in your dance of victory. My heart almost stopped as I watched you enter the Paths of the Dead, knowing how difficult it was for you to enter that dark and forsaken cave. You cast your fears to the wind and boldly followed Aragorn, your determination and strength evident in every step. I'm sorry about my fingernails — I didn't mean to bite them so closely, but when you took down that Mumakil single-handedly, it was either chew them or fly blindly down the aisle to the screen to help you, and I knew you didn't really need me to do that, right?   
  
You were so handsome in so many places. So impressive standing on the rooftop in the moonlight, ever watchful as the Men of Rohan drank their way to victorious oblivion in honor of their dead below your feet. So noble standing at Aragorn's side, whether it was in the hall of Meduseld or the throne room of Minas Tirith. So lovely when Frodo awakened in the House of Healing, so pretty in fact that Frodo forgot to call your name. Everyone gasped to see your shiny ceremonial circlet and stunning attire at the Coronation. Must have taken you hours at the tailors just to have your fittings done.   
  
But, nin caun? You remember the sign you promised to send me? It's not there. I've looked and looked, but I just can't find it.   
  
You know the one I mean: the taletale trip, the fumbling drop, the thing you were going to do to let me know you made it back like you did before. I know you made it back safely, since your safety was never an issue. I know how well you can take care of yourself. What I needed to see was that tiny something that you were going to do to tell me everything is okay, and what I needed to know was that the vision I saw on the big screen was really you. That it really worked. That this wasn't just another case of my mind playing tricks on me, or some sort of Weta-produced special effect.   
  
Your sign is just not there.   
  
Patty and I were talking the other day about a picture she found on the internet of you playing a drinking game with Gimli at Edoras after Helm's Deep. Rumor has it that it's supposed to be on the Extended Edition DVD. We were wondering if that might be the sign you tried to send me. She asked me if you had ever made a face like that, and I had to laugh because it was exactly the same face you made every time you tasted my Bartles and James Peach Wine Coolers. One bottle was enough for the both of us, but I'd open one each just so I could giggle at the way you'd hold your breath trying not to smell it as you sipped it. After you got used to the little bubbles you didn't think the stuff was all that bad, so you'd suck in some air, take a sip, and then swirl it around in your mouth before you took a tiny breath through your nose and then swallowed. It took you forever to get to the bottom of one, and by the time you got halfway through it was already hot and yucky. The thing I loved the most was the way you held the bottle by the bottom like it was some kind of fancy crystal wine glass with a stem or something you could put between your fingers. No palming the side of the bottle and guzzling it down for you. Come to think of it, you usually ended up holding it with both hands because of the way you picked it up. I guess you can take the Prance out of the castle, but you can't take the castle out of the Prance, or something like that.   
  
_I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone  
And though you're still with me  
I've been alone all along_  
  
Oh, but Legolas, this isn't how I wanted it to end!   
  
That's the problem with non-fiction, isn't it? It doesn't always turn out like we thought it should. In fiction there are all kinds of variables and alternate possibilities, but with non-fiction we're left lying in shock in the middle of the road as the ice cream truck of life rolls on over and past us.   
  
_When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears  
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears  
I held your hand through all of these years_  
  
Sometimes I stand in the doorway of your room at night and, without turning on the hallway light, I can see you lying flat on your back in your bed, the ghosted image supported by Princess Elizabeth, who still holds fast to her own hope as she parks herself in the place that used to be between your thighs each night. I think about how defeated you felt when you came back last time, the memories of the torch carrying Uruk-Hai that wouldn't die a fresh wound on your conscience. I was so proud of you when you picked yourself up and continued on just like the warrior that you are. Sometimes I think of the reason why you gave me my own warrior braids, for such a little thing really, when I know I didn't deserve them since I was such a fool about the little green lizard. Who knew you didn't like Palmetto bugs?   
  
I still remember your first ice cream, your first trip to Walmart, your first experience with sliding glass doors. I remember seeing you performing so amazingly at the circus, dressed in your clown costume and in the tightrope walker's suit. You had come such a long way in such a short time, learning so many things and growing so confident and fearless. The only thing you never did learn was to spell like we do here in Modern earth, but I'm hoping that fixed itself once you got back on your own turf.   
  
It wasn't until I got home from the movie theater that night that I realized we never really said goodbye. Maybe it's better that way. I was so busy that day, I feel like I neglected you to take care of everyone else's needs. If I hadn't stayed busy though, I think I would have tricked you into going out to the van and driven you away and kept you until at least the first fifteen minutes of 'The Return of the King' had passed. Then it would have been too late, and you would still be with me right now.   
  
You see, nin caun, the one place I don't see you anymore is in the bathroom mirror. It doesn't matter if my eyes are open or closed, you're just not there.   
  
You're just . . . gone.   
  
_But you still have  
All of me_  
  
Some how I envisioned a different ending. I'm angry with Peter for leaving it out. I want to know where the grey ship is? Where are the gulls that were calling?   
  
This is the memory I've made up for myself. This is how I would have written it.   
  
_(Scene opens. There is a magnificent single-masted sloop made of silver-grey birchwood docked in a quiet harbor. There are no other ships in the vicinity, and the impression is that this is the final ship to be departing from this place. The morning sun is rising in the east, all magentas and pinks and blues, but the water to the west at the mouth of the harbor is still midnight blue and reflecting the pale moonlight that still clings tenaciously to its hold on the land. There is a mild breeze blowing, filling the sails that are already unfurled, and the sloop is pulling against the ropes that tether it to the land of Middle-earth.  
  
An elf darts up the gangway, gesturing wildly.)_  
  
"Come on, Gimli! We must make haste!"   
  
_(On the dock below him, a rather reluctant person of small stature but tremendous presence moves with hesitant steps)_  
  
"Legolas, you pointy-eared bow twanger, if you think I'm in a hurry at my age to climb aboard a rattle-trap boat with the daft likes of you, you must have been swilling the brew in Edoras again. I know you elves are known for your craftsmanship as a race, but respect for that knowledge wasn't gained by anyone who has spent a moment's time in your presence watching you tinker about trying to whittle twigs and sticks with those long handled knives of yours. Any fool could see. . . ."   
  
_(Out darts the elf again, down the gangway, scurrying over to the dwarf and boldly lifting him up off his feet and tossing him gently over his shoulder.)_  
  
"Come ON, Gimli!"   
  
_(Amid much growling and grumbling and swearing in dwarvish, the elf manages to prance lightly up the gangway and deposit his charge carefully on the hardwood deck of the ship. He dusts his hands off before grinning at the still grumbling form of his longtime friend and then he rushes back to the dock and pushes the gangplank up onto the deck of the ship.)_  
  
"Wha. . . what do you think you're doing?! I can't sail this damned piece of tree all by myself! Get back here!"   
  
"Coming, Gimli!"   
  
_(The elf gives a mighty tug on the straining hawser ropes that anchor the ship against the dock. As the sloop moves forward, the elf lifts the aft hawser from the piling and tosses it aboard, rushing to the bow hawser to do the same. The sloop begins to move away from the dock, pulled by the water's current and the wind filling the gleaming white sails overhead.)_  
  
"GAH!! LEGOLAS!"   
  
"Coming, elf-friend!"   
  
_(The elf runs along the dock beside the departing ship, the dwarf trotting with him over the birchwood planking of the deck as he shouts curses mixed with encouragement for the elf to take some further action. As the sloop moves forward toward the mouth of the harbor, Legolas grabs the coiled length of halyard rope still lying on the dock, the far end of which is attached to the center mast of the sloop. He makes a mighty leap across the ever-widening gap, swinging by the halyard across the water and over the bulwark to land effortlessly beside the dwarf. The dwarf crosses his arms, turns his back slightly, and glares nowhere in particular. The elf leans down to whisper into his left ear.)_  
  
"Did you think I would deem you capable of having an adventure all on your own?"   
  
_(The dwarf makes a harrumphing noise, after which the two of them settle down at the helm as the elf takes charge of the sloop's wheel. Legolas stands, caressing the finely-crafted Elvish carvings in the wood. Gimli sits in an elaborately detailed chair to his right. The elf begins to hum.)_  
  
"What is that nonsensical tune you're letting escape from your head, Oh Fairest One? It sounds like something an orc maiden would choose to entice her mate."   
  
"It is a song I learned while I was away after the Battle of the Hornburg. A song of hope and freedom, of memories, both happy and sad. Shall I sing it for you?"   
  
"And subject my ears to the assault of your screeching until you so choose to belay your torture of me and go on with some other form of causing my permanent madness? Has the call of the gull caused your complete dementia?"   
  
_(A long pause ensues, during which the elf continues to hum, though more softly. A contented smile appears upon his face. The peaceful scene is broken when the dwarf whispers.)_  
  
"Go on."   
  
"Call me 'Master' first."   
  
"HARRUMPH! You dream whilst standing up!"   
  
_(There is another long pause.)_  
  
"I'll call you no more than 'Captain'."   
  
"Agreed."   
  
_(The dwarf shifts himself about in the chair, leaning back as if to indicate his favor will be hard pressed to earn. He pulls out his pipe and lights the leaf in the bowl, inhaling deeply. The elf scans the horizon with sharp eyes, takes a deep breath of the clean salt air, and begins.)_  
  
"I'm sailing away,  
Set an open course  
For the virgin sea."   
  
_(The dwarf mutters under his breath as he chews the stem of his pipe.)_  
  
"We'll have a blond one to sacrifice."   
  
_(The flinch is almost invisible. . . almost.)_  
  
'Cause I've got to be free,  
Free to face the life   
That's ahead of me."  
  
"Nothing quite like immortality, is there. . . ."   
  
"Master Dwarf, do you intend to make comment about every musical phrase I utter? If so, I shall be resigned to lock you in the brig."   
  
"I beg your pardon, Prance Legolas. Though were it darker and quieter than the middle of this boat, I do believe a dwarf could be happier there than here amidst all this buzzing noise."   
  
"It's a SLOOP. S-L-O-O-P. Not a boat."   
  
_(The dwarf removes the pipestem from his teeth, gesturing with it.)_  
  
"Nevermind. Just go on."   
  
_(The elf's lip twitches up in a tiny smile of victory. He resumes singing as he maneuvers the sloop through the harbor, and the open water of the sea before him begins to reflect the pinks and yellows and purples of the rising sun shining upon his back.)_  
  
"On board I'm the captain,  
So climb aboard.  
We'll search for tomorrow,  
On every shore  
  
And I'll try,  
Oh Lord, I'll try  
To carry on."   
  
"If you really wanted to carry on, and you really wanted to provide the entertainment any self-respecting Naval Officer would bestow upon his guests, you'd be offering me some ale with your whine."   
  
_(This time the tensing of the shoulders is visible, though slight, and the dwarf lets out a loud rolling bellow of laughter.)_  
  
"Whatsa matter, Prance Legolas? Don't tell me you forgot the ale?"   
  
"No, I did NOT forget the ale. And it's CAPTAIN Legolas. C-A-P-T-A . . . ."   
  
"Alright! Alright! CAPTAIN Legolas. Where did you hide it? Not squandering it away for yourself to imbibe in a little drinking game all on your own, are you?"   
  
_(The elf turns to face the dwarf, looking very much like a landlubber in need of the leeside gunwale.)_  
  
"I hardly see what you find at all pleasant about that vile drink. Elven wine is far superior and much more palatable to the taste."   
  
"You know, Master Elf, I find I much prefer your company in an inebriated state, whether it be yours or my own."   
  
"That's CAPTAIN Elf. . . ."   
  
"Enough already! Where's the galley? It's time for some food and drink around here. I suppose I'll have to go and get it myself, since you were too pre-occupied with building this seeping bucket of a barge to secure us any servant girls."   
  
_(The dwarf hauls himself up out of the finely crafted elven chair, swaying a bit as he tries to accustom himself to the sloop's gentle rocking from side to side. He staggers a bit as he finds his sea legs and begins to walk toward the door leading below deck. The elf, now fighting back the smile and giggle that threaten to escape him, turns back to continue steering the sloop. He calls back to the dwarf.)_  
  
"You'll find the galley well stocked, Gimli, and the wine cellar brimming. The ale barrels are located just to the left of the vegetable bin. The salted pork is in the lower cabinet just beside the . . . ."   
  
_(The dwarf jerks to a stop.) _  
  
"You brought salted pork?"   
  
_(Legolas turns to face him, his eyes bright and friendly.)_  
  
"And some of Samwise's sausages. And some bacon. You'll have to smoke the Longbottom leaf that Pippin sent at the aft end on the downwind side, though."   
  
_(The dwarf raises an eyebrow, a habit that was not one of his own originally but rather a learned custom developed after many years of communicating wordlessly with the line of Thranduil.)_  
  
"You don't say?"   
  
_(The elf winks. The dwarf hesitates, considers for a moment, and then breaks into a wide grin as he waddles away down the deck and through the galley door, whistling tunelessly before breaking into a round of "Ho! Ho! Ho! To the bottle I go". The elf is left to steer and contemplate and whisper softly to himself. )_  
  
"Aiy, yes! An appropriate song, taught you by none other than the hobbits themselves!"   
  
_(He resumes the song he had been singing, now free from dwarven interruptions. He can hear pots and pans banging around in the galley, and knows he will remain undisturbed for a bit of time as Gimli explores the dark recesses of the culinary bounty below deck.)_  
  
"I look to the sea,  
Reflections in the waves  
Spark my memory.   
  
Some happy, some sad,  
I think of childhood friends  
And the dreams we had."   
  
_(The elf sighs, his thoughts wandering over the adventures of his Halfling friends. His sharp blue eyes wander the horizon as the sloop leaves the harbor behind and heads out into open water. Overhead, the white gulls begin to thin out, tired of waiting for a handout and turning to head back to shore.)_  
  
"We lived happily forever,  
So the story goes. . . . "  
  
_(The elf pauses to gaze out over the open horizon. Visions of smaller waves with heated bubbles and starlit nights pass over his memory, along with the image of a little girl holding a stack of books in one hand, a woman with waist-long hair braided just like his own, and a man with Winnie the Pooh slippers on his feet.)_  
  
"But somehow we missed out  
On the pot of gold."   
  
_(A single tear slides over the elf's lower eyelid, coursing down his pale cheek and splashing soundlessly to the beautiful grey planking of the sloop's deck. He whispers softly these words, audible only to his own finely-pointed ears.)_  
  
"I tried, al. I tried to find it, but there was no magic that would carry me back to you this time. I wish that you could hear me . . . I wish that you could know that I am safe and well. That you could know somehow how much all of it means to me . . . ."   
  
_(Amid a host of loud crashing noises and the sound of stomping footsteps, Gimli reappears in the galley hatch, trying to manage a metal tankard of ale in one hand and a delicate crystal wineglass in the other without spilling any, though the sea is calm and the sloop is rolling ever so gently toward the West. Legolas quickly brushes his hand over his cheek, wiping away any evidence of his indiscretion. He squares his shoulders, gains an inch in height, and continues singing. . . .)_  
  
"But we'll try,  
Best that we can  
To carry on."  
  
  
The End  
  



End file.
